Elenlor
by Sadie Elfgirl
Summary: A tale of Thranduil's queen. His star of gold.
1. Harsh Words

**Summary-A tale of Thranduil's queen. His star of gold.**

**Disclaimer- No money for me, don't own. Except for Elenlor. She is mine… my own…my precious…just kidding.:)**

**Just so everyone knows what this story is, this is kind of a history. My version of the Queen of Mirkwood, how she met Thranduil, their life together, and what happened to her. I start this out with Legolas being kind of young and foolish, and then it jumps to the past to where Thranduil met his wife. Most of this story will be harmless, cute and fluffy, but towards the end there is some SERIOUS angst. Much unhappiness. **

"What did you think you were doing?" The deep, angry tones echoed in the stunned silence of the healing wing. Healers and wounded alike flinched at the sound, thanking the Valar that the King of Mirkwood's anger was _not_ directed at them.

Ironically the one at whom it _was_ directed did not seem overly concerned. The young elf sat on the edge of a bed, allowing one of the healers to tend to a bleeding cut across his forehead. The cut was not his only injury, nor was it his worst. There was a sizeable gash down his side and several other lesser wounds.

Thranduil's eyes burned as he glared at the elf. The young one was careful to keep his features downcast, a chastened look upon his face. Thranduil was not fooled. He could see the smile lurking in the depths of the blue eyes. He caught the twitching of the elf's mouth as the young one struggled not to laugh. It enraged him. "Well?" he demanded icily.

"I apologize, _Ada_," Prince Legolas sounded most contrite, but a gleam in his eyes betrayed him. "It was a mistake, and will not be repeated."

"A mistake! Legolas, you and Halden could have been killed! You almost were!" Thranduil suppressed the initial urge to strangle his offspring. It was not even the injuries themselves that ignited the fair king's wrath. It was the reckless manner in which they had been obtained, and the flippant attitude his son showed towards the whole business.

It had been a dare. A _dare _for the love of the Valar! Legolas and his companion, Halden had slipped into the woods and sought out a nest of Mirkwood's spiders because they had been dared to. The sheer stupidity of such an action made Thranduil want to grind his teeth. Both young elves had returned wounded. Legolas' injuries were slightly more severe than Halden's, but, fortunately, neither ones were deadly. Legolas should be able to leave the healing wing as soon as his head was dealt with.

"I am sorry, _Ada_," Legolas repeated. "Truly, we were not in such great danger. We had our weapons, and we have both been trained to fight."

"Legolas, there is a difference between fighting to protect our home and needlessly throwing yourself into the path of danger! Had you been injured while on patrol, or during a battle that _I_ had ordered, I would not be angry." The fair elf paused for a moment to glare at his son. "But there was no need for this!" Thranduil drew in a deep breath, trying hard to calm himself. Why did his son do things like this? What had he done to be so cursed? Frustration mounted with something almost close to despair as he gazed at Legolas. His unusual blond hair hung around the prince's fair face in sweaty tangles, the normally neat braids frayed. His blue eyes twinkled despite the severity of his scolding. Thranduil felt his anger ebb slightly as he looked into his son's eyes. Why could the boy have his mother's eyes, yet inherit none of her personality traits?

The pain that always followed thoughts of his wife threatened to crush the Elvenking's heart. He tried to push it away, but it was too closely connected to the true reason behind his anger at his son. Perhaps he should tell him…could he stand to? Could he bear to share the knowledge he had carried for so many years? Maybe it would make Legolas see just how precious his life really was…

"It was just for fun, _Ada_," Legolas' voice broke through the King's musings with the force of a lightning bolt. Thranduil was literally shocked into complete dumbness…and Legolas continued on, not noticing the look that spread across his father's face. "After all, what is there but to enjoy life? If I die, I die."

A nightmare shred of memory floated through the King's consciousness.

0-0-0-0

_Blue eyes stared up at him, bright in a face that was pale with pain. Blood flecked lips moved, forming words even as he tried to silence them. "He will live."_

"_Yes," Thranduil could not tear his gaze away from those eyes, begging…pleading with their owner to stay. "He will live."_

_The lips curled into the faintest of smiles. _

_The blue eyes closed into the sleep that should never fall upon the firstborn._

"_No! NO!"_

0-0-0-0

"_Ada_?" Legolas' voice was suddenly uncertain as he addressed his father. A startling change had come over the king. The prince very nearly shrank back in alarm. He could not remember seeing his parent more angry than he was at the moment.

"You," Thranduil's voice was taut. Stretched to the breaking point with a deep and terrible rage. The king's hand raised and for one frightening moment, it seemed as though he would strike his son. Time seemed to slow. With a very visible effort, Thranduil turned his clenched fist into a pointing finger. And as he leveled the finger at the young elf, his hand shook. "You do not know what your life has cost!"

Legolas' mouth dropped open in shock and hurt as he watched his father turn and stalk out of the healing wing.

0-0-0-0

Thranduil slammed the door to his study with unnecessary vehemence, his eyes still smoldering. Grief threatened to overwhelm him, making him angrier than ever. He did not mean to say such unkind things to his son, but how dare he! After what had been sacrificed for him how dare he treat his own life in such an offhand manner!

Agitated, the fair elf paced the room, his hands clenching and unclenching at his sides. It was not all Legolas' fault, he realized gradually. He did not know what had been done. Thranduil had never told him.

With a sigh of frustration the Elvenking flung himself almost violently into his chair. He should have told his son long ago. He should have told him at the time…but the pain had been too fresh. It had nearly destroyed him, and Legolas was the only thing that had kept him from Valinor's shores. Over the years the razor sharp grief had dulled to an ache, but he still found himself unable to share with his son what had transpired. Part of him half believed that once the words were spoken the pain would return to its fullest. Then, Legolas as well as himself would be swept away with it.

The other part believed that unless he kept the memory shut tightly, she would fade from his heart and from his mind.

Her. Elenlor. The Queen of Mirkwood. His wife.

The other half of his heart and soul.

Thranduil shut his eyes tightly as her image rose in his mind. Slender, her golden head bright amongst Mirkwood's dark haired elves. A more fitting name her parents could not have chosen for her. Elenlor. Star of gold. His star. She had been beautiful with a beauty that sprang from a sweet and loving nature as well as her outward appearance.

It had been so long since he had sat and thought of her. Yet she was always near his thoughts. Though she had been gone so long, sometimes he half expected to hear her voice lifted in song, or the soft sound of her small feet coming to fetch him to bed.

Then the pain would tear at his heart anew as he realized she would never be there again.

"_Elenlor_…" the name fell from his lips almost without his knowledge. With her name came memories of long, long ago.

0-0-0-0

Thranduil leaned back against one of Mirkwood's mighty trees, sighing deeply. It was not often enough that he managed to break free of his retainers and counselors, and simply walk in his own realm.

A shadow of old sorrow passed over the Elvenking's face as he gazed around him. He was far from his palace, and Mirkwood was dangerous and dark where he rested. It grieved him. His people fought against the encroaching darkness, but little by little, he feared the evil would spread until all that was once fair in his kingdom would be devoured.

Some of his elves still called their home Greenwood, but more and more did he hear the name 'Mirkwood' whispered in his halls. It was, he realized as he started walking again, rather fitting.

Very few were the shafts of sunlight that managed to creep through the tangle of leaves and branches in this part of the forest. Mirkwood indeed.

In disgust, the blond elf kicked at a fallen branch. It was coated in the sticky cobwebs that seemed to be draped from every tree. Worse than almost anything else were the spiders that left behind this adhesive agent. A scowl darkened his fair features. Not all the spiders were in the woods…if it was not enough that his home was falling into shadow, there were those in his own courts who would seek to lay the blame on his shoulders. Fortunately, they were not many, nor did they seem to be growing. But they were enough to set his teeth on edge and fray at the corners of his nerves.

Thranduil quickened his pace. He had stayed too long… now his advisors would be looking for him. A grin quirked at his lips momentarily. He would get the long lecture on how he was not supposed to leave without guards…

A soft sound caused the elf's head to snap to his right, his hands leaping to the hilts of his long knives.

The Elvenking crept towards the noise, his knives held at the ready.

Before him lay a small clearing, the type his people used for celebrations, or just merrymaking. Their own small way of thwarting the darkness that crept into their home.

Surprisingly, a rather large patch of sunlight illuminated this particular feasting ground.

And there, in the sunlight was the source of the sound the fair king had followed.

Thranduil could only stare, his knives hanging loosely from his hands.

An elf maid danced in the clearing.

Her hair was long, and unbound, falling past her waist. More than blond it was golden, so much so that Thranduil expected to see the sunlight reflect off of it. She was clothed in a white gown, leaving her graceful arms bare, the long skirt whispering around her unshod feet.

Carefully, he resheathed his weapons. She should not be out here alone…so far from the safer regions of the forest. He stepped forwards into the clearing at the exact moment that the maid's dance turned her face in his direction.

For a moment, it seemed as though time had frozen.

She gasped, obviously startled. In the blink of an eye, she turned on her heel and fled into the gloom.

For a moment, Thranduil could only stare after her in bewilderment. What had just happened…?

Suddenly… The Elvenking sprang forwards in pursuit as he realized what direction the elfmaid had taken. " Wait!" He could see her ahead, the white of her gown and the gleam of her hair standing out in the shadow of the mighty trees. " I won't hurt you!"

Unheeding, she sped onwards.

The elf growled softly and increased his speed. He had to stop her. The woods only became darker and more dangerous the further they went…

The elfmaid spared a moment to glance over her shoulder.

Thranduil saw her peril and cried out, trying to warn her.

Too late.

With a horrible snapping sound, the earth beneath her feet gave way. She disappeared; falling swiftly into the trap.

0-0-0-0

_Ada-Father(daddy)_

0-0-0-0


	2. A Hunter's Snare

The Elvenking cursed as he sped toward the pit his quarry had vanished into. He had seen the hunter's snare plainly, but apparently the elfmaid was not accustomed to such things. After all, it was fairly cunning. Dig a deep hole, cover it with forest bracken, and wait for a deer or some other game to stumble across. Only one who had seen such a thing before would know what they were looking at.

He slowed as he neared the rim, testing the ground carefully with his feet. Sometimes the edges grew weak after long exposure to the elements. He did not know how long this particular trap had been in place, and he did not wish to join the maid instead of helping her.

The blond elf knelt at the edge of the pit and peered inwards.

She was crouched against the dirt wall, her breath coming in short ragged gasps. It was not exertion that made her pant, the Elvenking realized with a start.

She was afraid.

" _Avo 'osto,"_ He said softly, soothingly.

Her head jerked up. She looked at him, and her jaw dropped in amazement. "_Hir nin!" _ The tension that held her body rigid melted away, and she slowly stood, her gaze dropping to her feet. " Forgive me," she said softly, keeping her eyes downcast. " I mistook you for someone else."

Thranduil's eyes narrowed. There was only one elf he could think of that resembled him _that _closely…

" Here," he stretched his hand down to her.

Hesitantly, she reached upwards and grasped at the help he offered. He could feel her slim fingers tighten around his larger ones…and for a moment he only wished to squeeze back. To reassure her that he was nothing like the one who had frightened her so badly.

The fair king shook his head, driving away such thoughts as he pulled the elf maid up from the hole.

"_Hannon le, hir nin,_" she said softly. Her eyes were still turned down towards the ground, apparently examining her feet with great interest. Thranduil felt the beginnings of a bitter smile twisting his lips. Perhaps the spiders in his court were spinning larger webs than he had thought. Had they ensnared this maiden? Had they filled her with their poisoned words?

"Come," he said abruptly. "I will escort you back to the city. It is not safe for you to wander the forest alone…" his voice faded softly as he glanced around him. Sadness overwhelmed him for a brief moment. "Not anymore," he murmured more to himself than to her.

To his surprise, the elf maiden tilted her head to the side and actually looked him in the eye. Her forehead furrowed in apparent confusion. "Why then, did your majesty wander so far on his own?"

For a moment, Thranduil was at a loss for an answer. Perhaps it was because the eyes he was looking into were an exceptionally beautiful shade of blue…no. It was merely because her question caught him off guard… "It has often been my custom to walk in my kingdom," he said, a hint of humor edging his tone. "And I can take care of myself, _hiril nin._"

"I did not mean to imply that you could not. I simply meant…I mean…should you wander willingly into a situation that you know is dangerous, for no cause, when so much depends upon you?" her gaze was guileless, the beautiful eyes wide and questioning.

Thranduil's eyebrows soared nearly to his hairline at her daring. There were members of his council who would not have presumed to ask questions like that! Where was the maiden who had cowered before him moments ago?

As though reading his mind, she paled. "I…I did not mean to offend you, sire…truly…"

" No," quickly he held up a hand, halting her words. "I am not offended. I am…intrigued." He was. Who was this? She did not walk with the bearing of an elf born any lower than a high lady of his very own court…yet he could not remember having ever seen her before in his long life. He glanced at her out of the corner of his eye as they walked back toward the city. Indeed, he believed that he would not have forgotten such loveliness very quickly.

Her question had not been meant to cast blame or guilt upon him in any way, he could see that. It had been pure inquisitiveness that had driven her to ask it. Sweet innocence…how long had it been since he had encountered anything like it? He snorted ever so softly. Certainly not recently. There was no such thing as 'innocence' in his council. No place for sweetness in his court.

The gloom beneath the trees deepened as the two walked in silence. Night was coming. Thranduil found himself unconsciously staring at the female beside him. She glowed in the dimness, the paleness of her skin emphasizing the shadows around her.

Flets began to appear in the trees around them, and Thranduil knew that soon they would be within sight of the palace itself. He felt slightly saddened. While he wished to know more of the elf maid…he had not been able to speak one word.

"I…please, sire, I would ask that you allow me to continue on alone."

The Elvenking was jolted from his own thoughts with a start. "I beg your pardon?"

The elf maid squirmed uncomfortably under the gaze of her king. "We are very close to my home, and I would wish to return there alone."

"As you wish, _hiril nin,_ as long as I am granted one request as well."

A slight blush crept into her cheeks and she became interested in her toes once again. "You majesty knows he has only to ask, and if it is within my power, I will grant this request."

"Your name."

The blush deepened. "Elenlor, daughter of Elalkar."

Thranduil could not help but smile. How fitting. Elenlor…star of gold. "_Hannon le, hiril Elenlor._"

Elenlor dipped a small curtsey, then turned and all but sprinted away. The fair king watched her leave, a small smile lingering on his lips. A daughter of Elalkar. That would explain why he had not seen her before. Though the lord Elalkar was a firm supporter of Thranduil, he was a rather prudish and stiff elf, especially in regards to his children. His daughters did not attend balls until their father designated a specific time. His sons did not join the warriors until they had proved themselves to their sire.

Feeling curiously light and happy, Thranduil walked toward his home with a smile tugging at his mouth.

Perhaps he would have a talk with Elalkar…

0-0-0-0

"_Edro_," Thranduil said, placing his hand against the gates to the palace. Without a sound, the gate swung inwards.

"Your highness! Where have you been!"

At the sound of that voice, the Elvenking very nearly turned and fled back into the shadows of his kingdom. Instead, he forced a smile to curl the corners of his lips. "Ah. Halynder. How good to see you." .

The greeting did not put off the elf that hurried towards him. Dark hair swung around his shoulders as he shook his head in frustration. "Sire, how many times have I told you? You. Should. Not. Leave. The. Palace! Not without a guard! What if you had been attacked?"

The good mood that had followed him since his parting with the Lady Elenlor started to dissipate. "I was not." He moved past the agitated elf, hoping against all reason that his advisor would leave him be.

He should have known better.

"You _could_ have been!" Halynder followed after his liege persistently. "The woods are crawling with spiders and Valar knows what else these days…"

Shutting out the voice of his counselor, the king walked on, his thoughts now turned to the interesting relationship he had with the slightly older elf now dogging his steps. For as long as they had been friends, Halynder had taken it upon himself to be the king's loyal protector, (or second _naneth_, as Thranduil often called him in varying tones of amusement or annoyance, depending on his mood), and was always present if the king should need him, without being overly obtrusive. However, as the darkness had increased, so had his advisor's propensity to be incredibly overbearing, especially where it concerned his liege's safety. Of course, this only served to make Thranduil find new and inventive ways to escape unnoticed and take some time to himself. Unfortunately, said moments of tranquility rarely made up for the lecture awaiting him on his return. He realized with a slight smirk that he actually had most of Halynder's scolding speech memorized, and so, refocusing on his counselor, he joined in the recitation.

"…injured, maimed or even torn limb from limb, so…" Here his friend stopped speaking and gave him such a fiercely shocked and disapproving look, that Thranduil could hardly finish the sentence for laughing. "…in the future I would appreciate it if you would have the good grace to be a little more careful and for Valar's sake, take a guard!" By now the king was barely choking out the words between chuckles, and his advisor was looking decidedly unamused.

"That is not funny, Sire. Not even a little bit" Halynder said coldly, his face completely stiff. "And further more…" But before he could continue, the Elvenking reached out and gripped his shoulder.

"I appreciate your concern, _mellon nin. _Truly I do" Thranduil struggled to keep a straight face, but his lips twitched as he continued. "But I have been a big elf for some time now, and," He paused as mirth threatened to overtake him again, "If you could have but seen your face!" The younger elf dissolved again into soft laughter, the clear tones ringing in the evening air. His friend heaved a sigh, and shook his head, even as a smile began to pull at his lips as well.

"There is no reasoning with you when you're like this, Sire, so I suppose I should just give up. After all, if you did happen to get eaten, it would make my life much simpler."

Thranduil wiped tears of merriment from his eyes and nodded. "Aye, that it would, my friend. I will keep that in mind next time I give you the slip. But for now, I am afraid I must be off. As you know, there is a feast planned for this evening, and I have much yet to do." Halynder cocked one eyebrow sardonically "Perhaps if you would not keep sneaking off, you would find your load a little lighter." His expression softened at the king's slightly chastened look. " But never fear, your Highness. I have seen to nearly all the preparations, and I believe that if you can manage to get yourself ready, all will be set."

Thranduil sighed, and a grateful smile spread across his face. "_Hannon le, mellon nin._ I do not know what I would do without you." He gave his advisor another brilliant grin, then turned and hurried into the palace. Halynder chuckled, and walked in more slowly, shaking his head again. 'Sometimes I truly wonder…'

0-0-0-0

Avo osto-do not fear 

_Hannon le, hir nin-Thank you, my lord._

_Hiril nin-My lady_

_Mellon nin- My friend._

0-0-0-0


	3. Dancing

Thranduil carefully adjusted his sky blue robes. Everything was in place for tonight. The king had only to finish preparing himself and all would be ready. The golden haired elf smiled softly. It did him good to hear the sound of merriment from below. At least his people could remember how to rejoice in simple things. Spring was coming, and the elves would mark the occurrence tonight.

Striding out of his chambers, Thranduil made his way through the palace until he reached the ballroom doors. Rather than enter with a loud announcement, the king chose to come in quietly. He enjoyed the chance to walk amongst his people without feeling awkward, and it did not happen very frequently.

Within the great hall the elves of Greenwood laughed, talked, danced, ate, drank, and generally enjoyed themselves to the fullest.

A tall elf standing nearby caught Thranduil's attention. Ah. Elalkar. The king started to move in the other lord's direction. Elalkar suddenly moved to the side, and Thranduil froze, momentarily struck dumb.

Beside Elalkar stood his lady wife…and Elenlor. The elf maid's hair was bound back so that it did not fall forward, but rather spilled over her shoulders. Small white flowers formed the traditional crown for maidens that were unwed and unpromised.

Thranduil felt his feet move forward of their own volition. Well, this certainly made his night…

Another elf stepped from the crowd and bowed to Elalkar.

The Elvenking felt his heart crash into his stomach. If seeing Elenlor made his night, seeing this elf absolutely ruined it. Especially since it seemed that he was asking Elalkar's daughter to dance.

The elf glanced sideways and caught sight of the fair king. He smiled mockingly before turning his gaze back to the lovely elf maid.

Saurna. At first glance, it would be incredibly easy to mistake the elf for the king. Their features were remarkably similar. Hair the same shade and worn in the same style. Eyes the same green of Mirkwood's first leaves. But there was a coldness to Saurna that had never clung to Thranduil. More than that, there was arrogance. Saurna's father had been a general in Oropher's army…and he had died on the slopes of Mt. Doom, along with many wood elves. After the death of her husband, Saurna's mother nearly succumbed to grief, and had, for the most part, left the then quite young elf to more or less raise himself. The only thing she had truly seen to was making sure that he always had anything his heart desired, and as a result, he had grown to believe that he was better than all he surveyed. Nothing was good enough for him…and he considered himself to be above all rules. This did not sit well with Thranduil. Already, there were tales circulating through the court regarding his scandalous behavior. His family took notice of him at last…but too late. He would not be curtailed, nor controlled. Mothers warned their daughters away from him, and yet it seemed that no maiden was free from his groping fingers. Not that he was doing anything overtly licentious, but Thranduil wondered what happened when the eye of the court was not upon him, for he saw the openly greedy, lustful look that would cross the upstart's face as he gazed at the elf maidens. He was also quick to notice how many of them drew back in disgust when he approached. The fair king felt his fingers close into tight fists as he remembered the look of fear he had seen in Elenlor's eyes.

What was Saurna doing when not in the public view? What had he done to Elenlor?

He saw the lovely maid's face pale considerably as the elf held out his hand toward her. The Elvenking listened intently for her reply…

"No. I mean…that is, I cannot," Elenlor fumbled, nearly taking a step back from Saurna.

Saurna's eyes darkened and he opened his mouth to retort…

"Indeed," Thranduil interrupted smoothly as he strode up to the elf maid and placed himself between her and Saurna. "She cannot except your offer for she has already promised me the first dance." He smiled down at her, noticing with pleasure the way she smiled back, relief written all over her face.

"Of course, sire." She placed her hand in his and allowed him to lead her towards the dance floor.

Thranduil felt the way her fingers trembled and his face grew grim. How had Saurna frightened her so badly? He tightened his grip slightly, squeezing her slim hand in reassurance. Elenlor's answering smile was rather distracted, her eyes flitting back over her shoulder warily, as though she suspected Saurna to follow them.

The two stepped into the dance with ease, their feet tripping gracefully in time to the merry music. Elenlor's worries seemed to fade as she spun through the complicated steps. Her hair almost floated around her and her eyes brightened. Laughter tugged at the corners of her mouth.

Thranduil felt his own mouth tip as he gazed at her. Her joy was infectious. He nearly forgot the fear he had seen cling to her only moments before. Unfortunately, the Elvenking soon remembered that he should focus on the dance, and not his partner.

The dance was incredibly difficult, designed so that even elven feet would have a hard time not tripping. Each spring it was performed, mostly for young couples soon to be wed. There was a long-standing joke that if you lost your footing, your eyes were obviously not on your feet but on your partner. Every year, _someone_ would trip, and they would have to endure the ribbing that followed.

To his dismay, Thranduil felt his foot come down on what he knew immediately to be the wrong note. He tried to correct his mistake, but it was too late. To the sound of laughter, the fair king soon found himself sprawled on the floor, his face turning red. Quickly, he regained his feet, smiling ruefully as the other dancers teased and giggled.

"Please it your majesty that we continue?" One of the musicians asked, his eyes twinkling and his mouth twitching as he struggled not to smile.

"Of course," Thranduil managed with all the grace he could muster. He smiled somewhat shamefacedly at his partner, all too aware of the murmurs that rose from the elves around him. Splendid. Now wild rumors would have him and the Lady Elenlor betrothed before the evening was through. Elenlor did not seem to notice. Her laughter was sweet without a hint of mockery.

The Elvenking felt the flush recede slightly and his smile softened to almost a grin. Taking her hand, he followed her light steps back into the dance, resolving to pay more attention to his own feet.

0-0-0-0

Elalkar watched with growing satisfaction as his daughter danced with his king. This was to his liking. He knew Thranduil to be a good elf, and a good king, despite what others said.

The elf's dark eyes flashed angrily as they lighted on Saurna. Not knowing that he was repeating Thranduil's thoughts of earlier, he reflected on how many attributes the young elf shared with Mirkwood's spiders.

Elalkar ground his teeth together slightly as he noticed Saurna's eyes were fastened on Elenlor, his gaze lascivious. It was all he could do to prevent himself from marching over and 'requesting' that the elf turn his face away. Of course, this request would come in the form of several blows…

A light hand on his arm brought him out of his violent thoughts. He turned his head to see his wife gazing at him anxiously. He forced a smile for her benefit.

So very like Elenlor she was…at least in physical appearance. The unusual gold of her hair stood out amidst the wood elves, for she was related to the folk of Lorien. Only Elenlor had inherited her mother's hair. All his other children resembled him.

"What troubles you, _meleth nin_?" She asked quietly, her worried eyes traveling over his face.

"Nothing," Elalkar answered a little too quickly. He could see at once that she did not believe him. He never _had_ been able to hide anything from her.

"Elalkar…"

The raven-haired elf sighed softly. "There." With a slight tilt of his head, he indicated where his wife should look. "It is him."

Hirilor turned, following his gaze, until her eyes rested on one of the few golden haired elves in the hall. Saurna. Her eyes darkened almost imperceptibly as she beheld the object of her husband's animosity. She knew how much Elalkar loathed the elf, and the reasons why. Her feelings were very like his in that regard.

"_Orch,_" she spat nastily. "_Ungol._" Hirilor saw whom Saurna's eyes rested upon and a delicate flush started to spread over her lovely features. "That…" Elalkar quickly caught her arm as she started to move forwards.

"_Hirilor! Daro!_" Though she halted at her husband's command, she shot him a questioning glare. Elalkar shared her frustration. "He has not done anything. To make a scene would only reflect badly on ourselves, and embarrass the king."

Hirilor acquiesced with a curt nod, but her eyes still flashed angrily. "He has no right to look on her like that."

Elalkar chuckled without any real humor. "One cannot confront him for a 'look', _meleth nin._"

"No," she agreed as she pulled her arm from her husband's grasp. "One cannot. Therefore, I will speak to his mother."

0-0-0-0

Hirilor made her way through the crowded hall with a determined stride. Catching sight of the Lady Anguirel, she squared her slim shoulders and drew a deep breath, as though preparing for battle. She knew that it might not be far from the truth. The elderly elf woman had long been reputed for her strong will and fierce protectiveness of her children. But then, much had changed in the past few centuries. The once proud shoulders of the Lady were slumped, her dark hair woven through with the black flowers of mourning. Her eyes were the gray of the metal she was named for, but the stars had faded from her gaze.

Anguirel had been a firm, steely matriarch to her elder children, but with the death of her husband the strength had left her. She seemed to float through life, taking no interest in her surroundings or even her youngest son as her grief consumed her. So it was that Saurna had grown being allowed to do almost whatever he wished. Hirilor could sympathize with Anguirel, and indeed, as she saw the drawn face of one who had been so happy and proud, she felt a deep compassion for the elf woman. It was very publicly known that Anguirel remained only because Saurna had not yet left her house as his elder siblings had. She was waiting for him to grow up so that she could leave for the healing of Valinor.

Unfortunately, given the manner of his raising, he was not in a hurry to grow up. He seemed quite content to remain as he was; a spoilt, selfish youth hiding behind his mother's skirts and his family's reputation.

The thought of Saurna made Hirilor stiffen her lips and plunge forward. She _did_ feel compassion for Anguirel, but that did not mean she would allow her own child to suffer because of the other woman's son.

"Anguirel," Hirilor laid a hand on the elder woman's arm, catching her attention. As the stately elf turned her sad eyes towards her, Elenlor's mother fixed her with a stern gaze. "I would speak with you. On the matter of your son."

Instantly, Anguirel's face fell, and Hirilor had to force herself to continue. "It has come to my attention that he has been… 'bothering'…some of the young people as of late." She had bitten her tongue at the last moment and said 'young people' instead of 'maidens' as was the case.

"He is young," Anguirel said plaintively, her eyes pleading with Hirilor to let the matter drop. "He will outgrow his ways soon."

"He is grown," Hirilor answered somewhat coldly, remembering the gaze he had thrown at her daughter. "And past the age of accountability. I do not wish to seem harsh, but neither do I wish him to upset Elenlor…some of our other young ones."

"I will speak with him," the elder elf lowered her eyes to the floor, tears pooling in them. Hirilor's heart misgave her, for she was tender despite her forthcoming manner. She remembered Anguirel of old and her eyes softened in compassion as she saw a tear slip down the woman's face.

"I am sorry," the elf woman wiped her steel gray eyes hastily. "It is just…I am so tired, Hirilor." She looked up, and the fair-haired elf saw the weariness that Anguirel tried so hard to hide, with less and less success as time went on. "I do not have the strength to deal with him as I should. I can only hope that he will see that what he does is wrong and will change."

Hirilor bit her lip. Saurna had needed a firm hand years ago; in fact, he still needed it now. But she knew that Anguirel told the truth. The elf woman had neglected her duty to her son while she was blinded by grief, and now that she could see, she was too spent to put any effort into changing him.

The fair-haired elf turned and strode back to her husband, a scowl creasing her forehead. All this was true. But that did not mean that she had to like it.

0-0-0-0

Thranduil led Elenlor from the floor as the dance ended, deliberately moving away from the position where Saurna was standing. For some reason he could not fathom, the very thought of Saurna coming near Elenlor was repugnant to him.

Unfortunately, his move was anticipated.

Elenlor stiffened slightly against Thranduil's side, and he looked up sharply to see her antagonist sliding through the press of elves toward them. Unconsciously, he tightened his grip reassuringly around her slender fingers.

"_Hir nin,_" Elenlor looked up at him, her eyes wide and pleading, desperately searching for words. "I…that is…would you…" Her gaze flicked over her shoulder for a moment and he noticed a real fear take hold of her as she saw Saurna draw near. "I would very much like to see the palace gardens," she almost blurted out. "Would you be so kind as to escort me?" Having managed to speak the request, a wave of red surged up over her face at her daring.

"Certainly," Thranduil answered casually, wishing to save her further embarrassment. Swiftly, he changed direction, leading her away from the dance and the crowd of wood elves. A small smile pulled at the corners of his mouth. Well, if the gossipmongers hadn't had enough material from the evening, they certainly would now…

The smile died as he looked down at Elenlor. Her cheeks were still bright red, and her eyes downcast. His mouth hardened into a grim line. What had Saurna done that had frightened her so badly?

0-0-0-0

Elenlor felt as though she could die of shame. What had she been thinking? Better to suffer Saurna's company than to be so…bold. Now she was on her way to the gardens with the king, no less. What must he think of her? She dared a glance up at him and almost wilted.

His mouth was set into an unbending line, his eyes cold. Was he upset that she had asked him to escort her? Of course he was. He was the king. He had better things to do than lead around foolish elfmaids. She noticed several other elf women watching him as they departed the hall and it made her squirm even more. What if he had had a previous engagement with one of them…? She swiftly banished the thought, unwilling to consider it. For some reason, it disturbed her to think of him with another.

Well, when they reached the gardens, she would release him. She knew the way to her father's home from the palace…she would leave, go home…and never attend another celebration as long as she lived! Her sisters had eagerly looked forward to the time when they would be allowed to attend. She had pretended to…but in reality, she had dreaded this night.

"Is something wrong, _hiril nin_?"

Startled Elenlor looked up to see the king gazing down at her with concern. "Of course not, your majesty." That was not exactly true, but then she couldn't really tell him what was going through her head. After all, what would she say? 'A young elf of a distinguished family makes me uneasy every time he looks at me? Do you think you could exile him or something for that?'

Something told her that would not go over too well. "I thank you for your concern, Sire," she said softly.

The king did not seem content with that answer, but he kept his silence and did not press her.

Elenlor relaxed as they strode down the moonlit paths. The gardens were indeed beautiful. After the noise of the ballroom, the quiet of the outdoors was even more welcome to her than normal. For a few moments, she was able to forget her original purpose in quitting the crowded hall. Saurna faded to the back of her mind as though he had never existed.

"Do they please you?"

"Hmmm?" Elenlor turned her face up towards the Elvenking, unaware of the sparkle that lit her eyes. In truth, she had almost forgotten his presence as well; she was so enchanted by the fragile beauty that surrounded her.

Thranduil grinned. "The gardens." One hand moved in an all-encompassing gesture. "Do they please you?"

"Oh! Oh yes." A smile curled the corners of her lips as she saw his grin. "Are you laughing at me, your highness?"

"Nay, Lady," The Elvenking said innocently, though his eyes told another story.

"You are trying to deceive me, _hir nin._ It is most unfitting a king." Elenlor blushed as the playful words left her tongue and looked down swiftly at her feet, hoping that Thranduil would not take offence at her teasing. To her relief, she heard him chuckle, and it heartened her enough to shyly meet his gaze and smile for a moment, before returning her attention back to the gardens.

The two fell into a comfortable silence for several minutes. They walked through the moonlit paths of the gardens slowly, simply enjoying the peace and quiet without the need to spoil it with words.

Thranduil realized with a start that they had been absent from the ball for nearly an hour. He sighed grimly. Though he did not wish to return as of yet, he should escort Elenlor back to her parents' side before the gossipers of his court had completely ruined her reputation… "Are you ready?"

"Ready?" Elenlor repeated blankly, turning her blue eyes toward him.

"To return. Your parents are most likely wondering where I have spirited their daughter off to, and of course you would like to enjoy the dance…"

An astonishing change swept over the elf maid at his words. The peaceful tranquility that had moments ago wrapped itself around her was torn into shreds with an almost audible ripping sound. The color faded from her cheeks, and her eyes widened in alarm.

"Actually," she stammered. "I believe I have had my fill of dancing this night. I think that I shall go home."

Thranduil was slightly stunned. Had her fill of dancing? "But you only danced the one…"

"Really," she interrupted, her voice nervous. "I wish to go home. Thank you for allowing me to view your gardens, Sire. I bid you good night."

Before the fair elf could react to this sudden statement, Elenlor released his arm and swiftly began to walk away. She had almost reached the other end of the garden before what she had said truly sunk in. "_Hiril Elenlor_! _Daro_!"

The maiden did as she was commanded…reluctantly. The Elvenking could see that much as he strode towards her. She was clearly anxious to be away. "If you insist on departing, at least let me walk you home. It is not safe to go on your own." With those words, he extended his hand to her, letting her know that though his words were in the form of a request, he would not brook with a refusal.

Elenlor hesitated for one moment, then sighed and took the offered hand. A warm glow spread through her at his touch and she felt her cheeks heat as an automatic response to his kindness.

Ruthlessly, she pushed such feelings away and would not meet her escort's eyes. She feared what he would read within her gaze, when she knew that he was the king and therefore not likely to be interested in a young elleth who had only just attended her first ball.

They made the short walk to her home in silence, and upon arriving, Elenlor dropped a quick curtsy, mumbled, "Good night", and disappeared into the dwelling without a backward glance. Thranduil stood staring after her for several long moments, then heaved a disappointed sigh and slowly turned back toward his palace. He did not see the pair of bright blue eyes that appeared at the upper window so that their owner could watch him until he was out of sight, nor hear the soft sigh that echoed his own.

0-0-0-0

Meleth nin- My love 

_Orch-orc_

_Ungol-Spider_

_Hir nin- my lord_

_Hiril nin- My lady_

_Hiril Elenlor_! _Daro_!- Lady Elenlor! Stop!

0-0-0-0


	4. Shadowed Memories

**This chapter needs a slight bit of explanation. Elenlor will have a bit of a flashback, so when you see this / that is her flashback, and when you see it again, flashback is over. Enjoy!**

0-0-0-0

Elalkar's gaze swept anxiously over the heads of the crowd, searching in vain for his daughter.

"Where did she go?" Hirilor stood on tiptoe, trying to search as well; though the added inches only placed the top of her head level with her husband's chin. "Did you see her dance again?"

"No," Elalkar spared a moment to glance down at his wife. "Not after the first. Then I saw the king lead her toward the gardens…" he stopped for a moment, an idea plucking at the corner of his mind. "You don't suppose they are still out there do you?"

"That is hardly likely," Hirilor dropped back onto the flat of her feet as she pondered the notion. "Elenlor has never met the king before, and you know how shy she is."

Elalkar was about to reply when he felt the light touch of a hand on his shoulder. Turning, he beheld his king. For a moment, the dark haired elf could only stare blankly. Recovering, he forced his tongue to move. "Sire."

"Elalkar." The king's mouth tipped slightly at the elf's surprise. "I thought it best to let you know that I escorted your daughter to your home."

"Home!" Hirilor echoed blankly.

"Yes," Thranduil smiled bemusedly. "She said she did not wish to stay for the rest of the ball, and insisted on returning home, so I escorted her there."

"Thank you, sire," Elalkar said gratefully. "We were just wondering what had become of her."

As Thranduil disappeared into the crowd, Hirilor sighed. "I knew she would do something like this."

"She is shy, _meleth nin_…"

"No, she is a recluse. Elalkar, she does not know anyone because she hides herself away! The only time she stirs from the inside of the house is to walk in our own gardens or to dance in the woods. I almost think that she fears others." Hirilor sighed softly. The one child that resembled her in looks certainly did not inherit her personality traits. She worried that her daughter had no one outside her family to talk to.

0-0-0-0

Elenlor sat curled on the foot of her bed, her long, delicate fingers combing through her hair. It was late, and she knew that her family would be returning soon. She sighed dismally at the prospect.

Her mother would wish to speak to her about her hasty departure.

Though the elf maiden loved and respected her mother, there were times when she wished the woman were a little more like herself. Hirilor was outgoing and talkative, her manner bright and cheerful.

Elenlor barely knew how to pronounce outgoing and talkative. In truth, she was so shy she might be described as timid. To those who she knew, she was as merry as her mother. Unfortunately, she only knew her family. While her sisters had made friends with other elf maids from families within the court, Elenlor had remained at home. She always had an excuse not to go, but that's all it really was. As the years went by, her siblings grew to accept her withdrawn behavior, but her parents worried.

Elenlor sighed softly. She knew that her mother and father were concerned about her lack of companionship. Recently, they had begun to insist that she accompany them when they visited or attended small gatherings.

That was how she had come to encounter Saurna.

Shuddering, Elenlor drew her hand over her face, as if brushing away an unclean touch. She did not want to think of him.

Tonight was the first ball that she had attended. Her parents had 'requested' her presence despite numerous protestations on her part. She desperately hoped that they would realize how much she did not wish join in such gatherings and let her remain at home.

"Elenlor."

The elf maiden lifted her golden head to see her mother standing in the doorway. Hirilor's eyebrows were drawn together in a frown, her blue eyes piercing her daughter.

Elenlor felt her hope waning.

0-0-0-0

The wood elves' celebration was slowly drawing to a close. Gradually the fair folk took their leave of the king and trickled out of the hall, their soft songs echoing in the cool night air. Lady Anguirel stood in one of the last groups of stragglers as they merrily chatted and gossiped, but her eyes had a sad, far away look and she didn't seem to even notice when her companions moved off and she remained almost alone. She would very likely have stayed were she was, lost in thought of times long past and another ball were she had danced as a happy new bride, until morning came, or the hall collapsed, or Sauron repented of his evil ways and threw a grand 'I've reformed' celebration, but a soft voice behind her jerked her ruthlessly back to the present.

"_Naneth._"

Anguirel turned to see her eldest son standing near, his face grim. She sighed, guessing what was about to come. Recently, it seemed that Dirion wished to talk of nothing else.

"_Ion nin_. _Man na den anirlye_?"

Dirion sighed softly. "It is Saurna."

Instantly Anguirel felt her defenses rise. Was it not enough that she had already been rebuked once this evening? And now she must endure more from one of her own children? "I do not see why you would concern yourself with matters that are not your affair."

"_Naneth_! I concern myself because it has to be someone's affair…and you are not making it your own!" Dirion kept his voice low, but his dark eyes flared as he spoke. Before his mother could utter a word, he continued. "I have tried to speak to you before, as have most of my brothers and sisters, but you would not listen to us."

"Nor will I now." Anguirel's voice was cold. "I raised you, I think I know how to raise your brother as well."

Dirion sighed in frustration. "You are _not_ treating him as you treated us. When we were small, you made sure we had discipline. You let _him_ have whatever he wants! And apparently, he wants some of the maidens in the court."

The icy silence that followed Dirion's exclamation made him wish he had worded it more gently.

"You speak nonsense." The elderly elf turned away from her son, her spine rigid with rage. "He is young. He will change."

Dirion sighed again. He could hear the pleading note entering his mother's voice. She knew that she had not raised Saurna as she should have; yet she was asking everyone in Mirkwood to look the other way for him. It could not go on! "_Naneth_, how long will you let this continue?" He saw the way his mother's shoulders stiffened, but pressed onward. "He is bringing down disgrace on you and all of our family. He is still in your home. _You_ are the head. It is your right as much as your obligation to chastise him." The dark haired elf rubbed his hand across his forehead as he gazed at the back of Anguirel's head. A swift pang of guilt hit him as he looked on the black flowers woven through her hair. If his father had not died this would not have happened. He knew that his mother's inattention to Saurna sprung from her grief. However, it did not change what was. As much as he loved his mother, he could not deny that she had not done her duty to Saurna by raising him correctly. He did not wish to cause her pain…but what else could he do? Someone had to tell her the truth, and keep telling her until she listened. With a monumental effort, Dirion resisted the urge to sigh again. He and his siblings had been trying for years.

The elf opened his mouth to continue, but he saw his mother's once proud shoulders shake slightly, as though she were restraining tears. He could not speak. Dirion stretched out a hand, intending to embrace her. "_Nana…_"

At the sound of the word, Anguirel stiffened. She turned and fixed her son with a cold glance. "I will speak to him."

Dirion could have wept. He let his hand fall limply back to his side and watched his mother stalk away. Her coldness hurt him, but what hurt him more was her eyes. He remembered as an elfling that a glare from his _nana_ was enough to send him into meek obedience. When nearing his adolescent years he had told his friends that he believed his mother capable of literally pinning someone to the wall with her eyes. His wife, on meeting Anguirel for the first time later told him she was sure the elf woman had been able to see right through her.

But now, Anguirel's eyes were changed.

The strength had left them.

0-0-0-0

"Elenlor, how could you?" Hirilor paced her daughter's room in agitation. "You promised us…"

"I promised I would go, _Nana_, but I did not promise I would stay for the entirety of the evening." Elenlor looked down at her hands as she spoke, her voice nearly a mumble.

Elalkar sighed from his position by the door. He did not pace as his wife did, but he looked disappointed. "It was understood. Besides, when you wished to come home you should have told us. If the king had not mentioned that he had escorted you, we would not have known where you were."

Elenlor kept her blue eyes fixed on her hands as they twisted themselves together in her lap. She winced slightly at her father's reproachful tone. "I am sorry, _Ada_. I did not think."

"Obviously." Hirilor sat beside her daughter, fixing her eyes on the young elleth. "Elenlor, tell us. Why did you leave?"

Elenlor looked up sharply at her mother's words. Did she know something? But no. Hirilor was merely concerned. She could not know of Saurna. The elf maiden wrestled inwardly, trying to bring herself to tell her parents of the uneasiness that crept into her mind whenever Saurna drew near. She had experienced this feeling the first time she had met Lady Anguirel's youngest son, and now it was actually passing 'uneasiness'. Now, whenever she saw him, her initial instinct was to run.

As she had when she first saw the king. It had been such a shock to realize that she was not alone, her body took over. She had fled, a very real fear giving wings to her feet.

"Elenlor?" Elalkar's eyebrows drew together in concern as he saw the haunted expression lurking in his daughter's eyes. The dark haired elf crossed the room and sat by Elenlor's other side. "What is it?"

How could she explain it? How could she? He had not _done_ anything, yet she could not control her initial reaction towards him.

Her mother had taken her to visit a friend, and the Lady Anguirel had been there. Saurna was with her. Not long into the visit, Elenlor managed to escape to the gardens…but she was followed.

/ Elenlor drew a deep breath of the flower-scented air, relieved to have escaped the crush of elves within the house for the moment. Her mother had insisted she come, though the elf maiden had tried to refuse multiple times. She did not like to be surrounded by other people, and Lady Galiel always invited so many guests.

A soft breeze stirred her hair around her and she felt herself begin to relax. At least Lady Galiel had some very fine gardens. The golden-headed maiden sighed in appreciation as she bent to smell one of the rose bushes.

"Hello there."

Elenlor jerked upright and whirled, her heart slamming in her chest. She was shocked to discover that she was not alone, and even more disturbed to see that it was Lady Anguirel's son that lounged against a tree, his eyes fastened on her slim form. She had never met the elf, but her sisters had brought tales from the court, and she eyed him warily. He was handsome, she decided. The green eyes and unusual golden hair came together very nicely on a well-muscled frame. But there was something…wrong. His eyes were cold, and arrogance seemed to seep from his very being.

"I do not think that I have seen you before," Saurna pushed himself away from the tree, a leer pulling at the corners of his mouth. His gaze flickered over her from head to toe. "Pity. I see that I have been missing something." If he noticed her look of distaste, he did not comment on it. "My name is Saurna. And you are…?"

"Elenlor. Daughter of Elalkar." Elenlor started to edge away. "It was nice to meet you." With that, she turned and began to walk down one of the garden paths. The manner and bearing of the elf had unnerved her considerably, and she could only feel relief that she had left him.

A creeping sensation seemed to crawl into the back of her mind as she walked. Elenlor tried to shake it off, but it persisted. She felt as though she was being watched by unfriendly eyes. As she rounded a corner, Elenlor glanced behind her. An unpleasant shock made the hair on the back of her neck prickle. She _was_ being watched. More importantly, she was being followed. Saurna was a mere twenty feet behind her.

She sped up as she rounded the corner, thanking the Valar for the large flowering hedges Lady Galiel had seen fit to plant, turning her garden into almost a maze. Hopefully she would be able to lose Saurna somewhere along the way…

"Elenlor."

The fair elf stopped, dread curling around in her stomach. Saurna had increased his speed as well. She turned to see him standing only a few feet away. A superior, arrogant smile was curling his lips. "Don't you know that it is rude to walk away when someone wants to talk to you?" His tone was condescending. He stepped closer and lifted a hand to stroke her cheek. "Or perhaps do something besides talk…"

Before his hand could make contact with her skin, Elenlor stepped back. "I am sorry. I do not think that I would be a very good conversationalist tonight. I came out to escape the people, you see." She turned to go, only to gasp in surprise as she felt a hand close on her shoulder, the fingers gripping tightly. Saurna spun her back to face him and for a split second, she was afraid.

Green eyes gazed down at her coldly. "I was not finished talking to you." Again, his gaze swept over her form. She shuddered in disgust, wishing only to be free of him.

"Elenlor! Elenlor where are you?"

Elenlor nearly choked as relief poured through her. "My mother is calling me." Before Saurna could react, she pulled free of his grip and all but fled. She could feel his eyes on her as she left. It was not a comfortable sensation./

Hirilor sighed in exasperation and pushed herself to her feet. "I do no know what to do, dear one. Your father and I are worried."

Elalkar placed a gentle hand on his daughter's shoulder, brushing her long hair back. "You do not know anyone."

Elenlor kept her eyes down. "I know my sisters and my brothers and you. Why do I need to know anyone else?"

"I am going to propose a deal," Hirilor said quietly. "For one year, you attend the balls and any other gathering that we do."

"_Nana,_ I do _not_ want to go…"

"And after that time period, if you still do not wish to go, we will not force you." The elf woman saw her daughter's frown and sighed. "At least consider it. Please?" She waited until she saw Elenlor's head nod fractionally. "Thank you." Stooping, she kissed the elleth's forehead, then straightened and left the room.

As soon as she was gone, Elenlor turned to her father with pleading eyes. "_Ada_, I do not want to do this."

Elalkar surveyed his daughter with sympathy. He knew how she felt, having gifted her with his personality if not his physical looks. He understood her shyness better than his wife, though both loved their child equally. However, they were both, as Hirilor had said, worried. They had believed that Elenlor would eventually come forth on her own as she grew older and overcome the tendency to withdraw from people. If anything, she had shrunk farther away.

"Child, I fear that you will not find sanctuary with me. I agree with your mother."

Elenlor looked betrayed.

"Elenlor," Elalkar took one of his daughter's hands in his own and stroked it gently. "I know that you are not comfortable around those you do not know, but unless you make an effort, you will never know anyone. You have to be able to live with people, and not just around them." He smiled gently, but his words were firm. "And I am afraid that you do not have that skill as of this moment. I would like to see it cultivated."

Elenlor rose, agitated. She strode to her window and gazed out at the night sky, her brow furrowed. "It is not that I do not _like_ people, _Ada_. I just…" Her words failed her for a moment. An image of Saurna rose in her mind. She shuddered. "Sometimes they make me uncomfortable." Or afraid. Were it not for Saurna, she would gladly agree to her mother's plan, but she knew that Lady Anguirel's son would be present at most social gatherings.

"You did not seem uncomfortable around the king." Elalkar noted, a little too casually.

"_Ada_!" Elenlor blushed hotly "I am _not_ going to discuss that." As she spoke the words, she sighed just a little. She was not fool enough to think that the king would ever look twice at her. He was the _king_. She was only a lord's daughter who found it hard to speak to people without turning bright red. Though she had to admit, she _hadn't_ been uncomfortable around him at all.

Elalkar rose with a chuckle, his robes swirling around him softly. He embraced his daughter and pressed a kiss to her forehead. "I just want you to be happy, _Silme_."

Elenlor smiled at her father's nickname for her and relaxed into his arms. "I will think about _Nana's_ idea, _Ada_."

"Good." The dark haired elf released her and tucked a few golden strands behind her pointed ears. "_Losto mae, Elenlor._"

"_Losto mae, Ada._"

0-0-0-0

Hirilor sighed as she gazed through the window. She could see Elenlor's slender form, clad in a light blue gown, disappearing rapidly into the trees. She knew where her daughter was going, and though she tried to dissuade her, the elleth uncharacteristically refused to heed her parent's advice.

The elf woman shook her golden head. She feared for her daughter when she went wandering into the woods. Lasgalen was not safe anymore. 'Mirkwood,' the men from the lake called it. The younger elves were picking up the name as well.

One last gleam of sunlight shimmered in Elenlor's fair hair, and then the shadows of the wood swallowed her up as though she had never been. Hirilor chewed her lip. She wondered if she should send for one of Elenlor's brothers and have them go after her, just to make sure she would be safe.

A tapping at her door interrupted the Lady's thoughts. Swiftly, she strode away from the window and towards the door. It was most likely Lady Galiel…she had not seen her friend for over a week…

Hirilor pulled the door open, expecting to find the diminutive, chattery, elf woman. She was therefore quite surprised to find herself staring not at the top of Galiel's head, but a male elf's broad chest. Her eyes quickly traveled up…and widened as she recognized her king. "_Hir nin_!" She stepped back and opened the door wide. "Please, come in."

Curiosity seized her as she watched the Elvenking enter her home. "I am afraid that my husband is gone to visit one of my sons. I do not expect him back until this evening."

"Actually," Thranduil's smile was half embarrassed. "I did not come to see your husband…I…I came to inquire after your daughter, Elenlor."

Just in time, Hirilor stopped her jaw from dropping open. Elenlor! What on Arda…? But then realization hit her. Oh the rotten bad luck! Why did he pick now of all times? If he had come twenty minutes sooner…!

"Alas, Elenlor is not here either," Hirilor said regretfully. Very regretfully. It was not every day the king came to call on one's daughter! "She went into the woods and I do not know when she will return."

Thranduil's reaction was surprising. His green eyes widened, and an alarmed look crossed his face. "She went into the woods? Did anyone go with her?"

"No," Hirilor replied. "She always goes alone." A brief shadow flickered across the mother's face before she went on. " We have asked her not to, but she insists. I only know she went because I happened to catch sight of her through the window, and I was wondering whether or not I should send one of her brothers after her to make sure she is safe."

The fair king was already striding towards the door. "Do not bother, _hiril nin_. I will go after her myself."

Hirilor sighed softly in relief. It was a great worry off her mind, yet she did not wish to inconvenience her king… "Please, do not feel obligated, _hir nin_, I am sure one of my sons will be happy to go…"

"It is no obligation." Before she could say another word, Thranduil was out the door and moving swiftly into the trees.

0-0-0-0

Elenlor paused a moment before entering the small clearing. She smiled slightly as she remembered the day before. It had been so surprising to realize she was not alone! Especially when the king resembled Saurna so greatly. She shuddered slightly and pushed the thought away. She did not want to think of Saurna right now.

She always came here when she needed to think. It was peaceful. It was one of the few places besides the palace where sunlight could be seen on a regular basis. She loved it.

Slowly, she stepped into the center of the clearing and raised her arms, allowing the sun's rays to pour over her skin. Her feet moved of their own volition, stepping into the contours of a dance as if they were made for that sole purpose. Her heart lifted as she spun gracefully, her hair flying around her like a golden cocoon.

It was easier to think when she was dancing. When there was peace and quite around her. She did not need music. The trees sang for her. She could hear their whispers even now. A smile curled her lips. Perhaps she would accept her mother's proposal. How bad could one year be for an immortal?

Something tugged at the corner of her mind. She felt as though someone was watching her…yet she was not frightened. Curious at her own feelings, she started to slow her steps.

0-0-0-0

Thranduil paused. He stood on the outskirts of the clearing, hesitant to enter. He remembered how Elenlor had reacted the day before, and he had no wish to frighten her once again.

As he watched, her dance slowed. She stopped, her back towards him. Before he could say anything, she turned. Her eyes widened at the sight of him, but she did not turn and flee. Swiftly, she sank into a graceful curtsy. "_Hir nin._"

"_Hiril_ _Elenlor_." Thranduil smiled softly. "Your mother worries when you wander into the woods on your own." He clasped his hands behind his back. "I offered to accompany you, and she seemed very relieved."

0-0-0-0

Elenlor felt her face start to turn a very delicate shade of red. So her mother had seen her leave…and seen fit to mention it at court. Now the king felt it was his duty to watch over an elleth to make sure she did not get hurt. He probably felt obligated because of her father. "I…that is…that is very kind of you, sire, but I would not wish to impose on you…"

The fair king waved a hand, cutting of her protestations. "It is no imposition. Rather, it is my pleasure." His green eyes traveled around the clearing curiously. "Do you come out here very often?"

"Nearly every day," Elenlor stated, hoping desperately that he would be put off by her answer and decide not to accompany her. If anything, he looked even more pleased. She sighed in frustration. Gathering her skirts in one hand, she quickly left the clearing, and heard, rather than saw, him fall into step by her side.

Oh if only he would not do this! She knew that her feelings for him were bad enough with the one evening she had spent in his company. If she were to spend time with him every day, it was very likely she would find herself in love. Rather than rejoicing as most maidens would, she despaired. He would never look at her that way, and she did not relish losing her heart only to have it broken. Why did he have to be so noble? "Would it not be more convenient for your majesty to send a guard, if you are concerned? I know you are very busy…"

"I would entrust this task to none but myself." The Elvenking's mild eyes smiled down at her, and she felt herself smile back automatically. She could not help it. He had been so kind to her already. With a sigh, she resigned herself mentally. She supposed there were worse things that could happen.

She could end up falling in love with him, and then he would marry someone else.

With a sniff of disgust, she shook such thoughts away. They would not help.

0-0-0-0

"_Hannon le, hir nin,_" Elenlor managed as she opened the door to her home.

Thranduil gazed at her, his green eyes sparkling. "I will see you tomorrow, _hiril Elenlor_?"

The maiden hesitated, her mind telling her to say no, though she desperately wanted to spend time with the fair Elvenking.

"Yes," she said quietly, and slipped through her door before he could say another word. She leaned against the carved wood and listened to his footsteps fade away, a curious smile pulling at the corners of her mouth. For the first time in her life, she was looking forward to spending time with someone outside of her family. In fact, she could hardly wait.

0-0-0-0

Thranduil looked back over his shoulder at Elalkar's home. He couldn't resist. To his surprise, he saw a pair of lovely blue eyes gazing at him through one of the windows. He smiled, and lifted a hand in a good-bye salute.

The owner of the eyes waved as well, her cheeks turning pink. With a swift move, she pulled the curtain shut.

There was no way he could have known, but that small wave was to become a habit. And it would continue for many years to come…

0-0-0-0

Meleth nin- My love

_Naneth- Mother_

_Ion nin. Man na den anirlye?- My son. What is it you desire?_

_Nana- Mother(mommy)_

_Ada- Father(daddy)_

_Silme- Starlight_

_Losto mae, Elenlor- Sleep well, Elenlor_

_Hannon le, hir hin- Thank you, my lord._

_Hiril nin- my lady_

0-0-0-0


	5. An Unwanted Proposal

_Thirty years later_

The years passed by quickly for the immortal occupants of Mirkwood. Springs and summers, falls and winters blended into a colorful kaleidoscope. The only change that seemed to creep within Lasgelen's borders was the increasing shadows.

These shadows worried Thranduil to no end. He strode through the darkness beneath the trees swiftly, vague fears gnawing at his peace of mind. His hands were resting lightly on the handles of his knives. They itched to draw the weapons forth.

A glimmer of sunlight filtered through the trunks ahead of the fair Elvenking. He stepped a little more quickly, anxious to set his fears to rest.

A slim form blocked the sun's gleam for a moment before whirling away once more. Thranduil stopped and drew in a deep breath of relief. She was safe. For a moment, the blond elf leaned against a tree, thanking the Valar that they had protected the elf maid once more.

He had had this argument with Elenlor before. Many times in fact. Over the years, there were days when he could not reach her home before the time that she normally left. His duties kept him confined to the palace when he would much rather walk with the lovely maid that had captured his heart. Unfortunately, she would not wait! Thranduil could have ground his teeth in frustration. Nothing had ever happened to her…but Mirkwood continued to become more dangerous and he worried when she was by herself. He had gone so far as to suggest that he teach her to use the long handled knives of the woodland elves…though he would prefer to accompany her, at least then he would know she was not completely defenseless. However, Elenlor would not hear of it. She insisted that she would come to no harm.

Shaking his head, Thranduil stepped forward once more. Elenlor turned as he entered the clearing, a smile lighting her blue eyes.

"Elenlor…" Thranduil shook his head. "Why must you insist on coming out on your own? I could not have been more than five minutes late!"

The elf maid turned her eyes downwards demurely, effectively hiding the twinkle that danced in their depths. "I have a singular lack of patience, Sire."

The Elvenking nearly snorted in disbelief. Yet he could not entirely keep his mouth from curling at the corners. Enough time in her presence and Thranduil had discovered that the elf maid had a sharp wit and wonderful sense of humor. Not that most people knew it. His voice was dry as he answered her. "A remarkably rare trait for an immortal."

"True," Elenlor sighed remorsefully, even as her own lips twitched. "Your majesty had discovered one of my many flaws. I can only hope that you will be noble and not expose me to ridicule amongst my family and the members of your court."

Thranduil chuckled. He couldn't help himself. He knew that his mirth effectively ruined any impact a lecture would have on her, but he truly couldn't stifle his laughter. The king's green eyes grew soft as he gazed at her. A pang hit him even as he smiled into her lovely face. Through the years they had formed a deep bond, and his love for the golden maid grew daily. Unfortunately, he knew that Elenlor was completely oblivious of his affections.

She seemed perfectly content to remain as they were, and though he wished for more, he would not push her. Sighing softly to himself, he smiled. It was enough that he could be close to her in this way. If all she wanted was a friend, he was happy to supply it.

0-0-0-0

Elenlor felt her heart skip a small beat as she saw the fair Elvenking smile at her. He had become infinitely dear to her over time, as she had known he would. Indeed, she had fulfilled her own prediction. She was in love with the King of Mirkwood. At times, the feeling made her incredibly happy.

More often, it was depressing.

Thranduil was her dear friend…but he gave no indication of ever desiring anything else. Once, or twice during the years, she thought she had seen _something_ in his eyes as he looked at her. But he never said anything. Not. One. Word. It was frustrating.

Elenlor whirled back into her dance with a sound that might have been called a sigh, if it had been loud enough for anyone other than herself to hear. Her eyes danced around the clearing as she spun. This place had always been special to her. Now it was even more so. Everyday she came here, accompanied by the king.

During the evenings, she attended Mirkwood's social gatherings. Her mother's one-year test period had come and gone, and Elenlor found that she no longer dreaded being surrounded by people. The only problem with such meetings was that Saurna still paid uncomfortably close attention to her. In fact, if anything, his interest had grown during the years. Her parents shielded her to the best of their abilities, and the Elvenking himself had stepped in to guard her from the spoilt youth, but every so often, he managed to get close. Elenlor shuddered softly as she thought of him. For that reason, she would always prefer this glade to the most anticipated ball.

Sometimes (more and more often as she and Thranduil had grown closer) they would simply sit and talk for the entire time. She loved those days best. He was unlike any other elf she had ever met. Why did he have to be the king? If he had been anyone other than the ruler of Mirkwood, she would have felt more positive regarding her hopes of a relationship.

A hand closed around her fingers, and Elenlor smiled softly. She looked up and beamed at the king as he stepped into the dance with her.

As they spun together around the clearing, the trees sang a sweet melody.

0-0-0-0

Elalkar smiled to himself as he looked through the windows of his home towards the woods. He could not be more pleased with Elenlor's relationship with the king. He could see, as his daughter did not, that Thranduil had lost his heart to the fair maiden.

The dark haired elf stepped back, away from the glass and moved toward his study. Now, if only Elenlor could be brought to realize how deeply the Elvenking cared for her…he chuckled softly to himself. The elleth was so humble! She really did not see her beauty, nor her sweet personality as being enough of a draw to interest the ruler of Mirkwood. There was more than that though. She was brave in ways that most inhabitants of the kingdom would never be. How many elves would travel in Mirkwood without companions or weapons? Yet she would do both. For some reason, though she was very nearly frightened by her own people, the shadows of Mirkwood held no terror for her.

Elalkar glanced back over his shoulder toward the window. He stopped, turned around, and stared. Coming toward his home was an elf. And not just any elf.

Blond hair gleamed in the sunlight as it spilled over broad shoulders. His stride was sure, in fact, it was almost a swagger.

Alarm bells started to go off within Elalkar's mind. How many elves with blond hair lived in Mirkwood? Only four. The king, his wife, Elenlor…and Saurna. Given the fact that only two of those four were male, and Thranduil was currently with Elenlor, it narrowed the possibilities of his visitor down to one.

Elalkar was _not_ happy about that remaining one.

A knock on the door dragged Elalkar from his hopeful imagining that there was perhaps some other elf he had overlooked. He strode towards his unwanted guest, half contemplating pretending that there was no one home.

Elalkar sighed, (almost groaned) and pulled the door open. "_Mae govannen, pen neth._ _Man morko le bar nin_?"

Saurna's face clouded over with a petulant expression at Elalkar's reminder of his position. He jerked his head in a nod that might have been taken as a bow given by one with severe back problems. The barest hint of respect necessary to meet social obligations. "_Mae govannen, hir nin._" The last two words were almost forced out of the spoilt youth's throat. "I would speak with you."

Elalkar reluctantly stepped to one side and beckoned Saurna into his home. He strode forwards to his study, entered, and seated himself, motioning for the fair elf to do the same. "What would you speak of?" A little brusque, perhaps, but Elalkar was not blind to the looks that Saurna had thrown Elenlor's way for the past three decades. As much as the dark haired elf lord had admired the youth's father, and actually grieved for his mother…he did not like what he saw before him.

"Your daughter." Saurna's eyes were lit with pride, self-assurance…and something else. Something dark.

Elalkar felt a brief spark of actual anger. He knew for certain that Elenlor had _never_ given the elf any kind of encouragement whatsoever. Yet here he was. Elalkar decided to play dumb. It was not a tactic he used very often, but when presented with such a person as Saurna, he thought it remarkably appropriate. "Which daughter would that be? Elwen?" The elf lord named his eldest daughter…who happened to be married with three elflings.

"No," Saurna's green eyes glittered coldly. "Elenlor." The youth's voice was snappish, his manner arrogant and presumptuous. It galled Elalkar. He was too old and wise to be affronted easily, but this upstart's complete lack of humility and respect was pushing him.

"And what," he said, his tone icy, "would you have to say about Elenlor?"

Saurna heard the layer of frost covering Elalkar's voice and hastily curbed his manner. "I would have your permission to wed her…sir."

Without conscious thought, Elalkar began tapping the fingers of his right hand on the seat of his chair. "I will have to speak to Elenlor of this," he said grudgingly. He suspected that his daughter would want nothing to do with this spoilt youth, yet he was not _absolutely_ certain. He hoped she would want nothing to do with him. If Elenlor would wish to wed Saurna, his opinion of her would drop drastically. However, he had faith in his daughter's judgment of character. "She is not here at the moment, so if you want to come back later…" Elalkar was rising from his seat even as he spoke, clearly intent on showing Saurna out.

Saurna, however, did not move. "I will wait. Do you think she will be long?"

"Perhaps," Elalkar sank back with a small sigh. "Often she does not return until the evening."

Anguirel's son nodded imperiously. "I will wait."

0-0-0-0

Elenlor slipped inside the door to her home, shutting it swiftly behind her. Quickly, she went to the window and pushed the curtain to the side, watching Thranduil as he left. He turned, as he always did, and she waved, a smile curling her lips. She gazed after the fair king as he strode towards the palace. The world of fantasy that held all young ones in love caught her in its sweet grasp for a few precious seconds as she saw Thranduil disappear into the walls of his home. She leaned against the glass with a sigh. Reality would break through the walls of fantasy quickly, and it was better if she did not spend too much time there. Reality might be unsatisfying, but it would be even more so when she had spent time in a world of dreams.

Especially when she knew that those dreams were not likely to be realized.

"Elenlor?"

The blond elleth turned at the sound of her father's voice, a smile on her sweet face. "_Ada_." Quickly, she went and flung her arms around his neck in an impetuous embrace, kissing his cheek. Stepping back to look into his face, she felt her good mood start to drain away.

Elalkar's face was grim, his dark eyebrows drawn together in almost a scowl. Elenlor felt her smile slip. "_Man na den, Ada_?" Her arms fell to her sides, and she took a step back, wary of her father's stern features.

"There is someone here who wishes to speak with you, _Silme_." Elalkar noticed her unease and tried to force his face into a neutral position. He did not pull it off very well. Instead, his features continued to mirror the feelings of frustration, annoyance and general distaste that several hours in Saurna's company had effectively produced.

The dark haired elf lord saw how Elenlor still eyed him with apprehension and his brown eyes softened with tender concern. "_Avo 'osto,_" He said quietly, lifting a hand and gently tucking her golden hair behind one pointed ear. "_nin si._" With a deep sigh, he took her arm and led her into his study.

The change that came over his daughter when she realized who it was that sat in his study startled Elalkar. Her body stiffened, the arm looped through his becoming nearly unbending.

Saurna rose and leered as he saw Elenlor enter the room. His eyes swept over her lustfully, and Elalkar nearly threw him from his home right then and there.

"Elenlor," her father ground through his teeth. "Saurna has requested to wed you."

"As soon as possible," Saurna's voice was almost bored. Obviously, he thought it nearly a done deal. "We can be married from my mother's home…"

Elenlor felt the blood drain from her face. Black shadows swum around the edges of her vision and she realized with horror that she was very close to passing out. With an effort she pulled herself back. Fear was making her heart thud painfully in her ears. To be married to Saurna? No! Never! Not possible! Through her haze of horror and repugnance, Elenlor suddenly heard Saurna's voice. He was still talking…outlining…wedding plans? NO! "NO!" The word burst from her lips before she could think. It was almost an instinctive response.

Her father's arm squeezed her comfortingly and she looked up at him desperately. She didn't care how this looked; didn't care about anything at the moment! "_Ada_!"

Elalkar quickly withdrew his arm from hers and wrapped it around her shoulders. He was shocked at her response. Shocked, and angered. What had Saurna done to make her feel like this? His eyes burned hotly as he glared at the elf.

The fair youth's mouth was gaping open in shock. A dangerous light burned in his green eyes. This was probably the first time in his miserable life that he had been denied anything he had wanted. Spoilt, and crossed. Not a good combination.

"You have your answer," Elalkar said grimly, holding his daughter almost painfully tight. Elenlor clung to him, her face white as the gown she wore. "Now get out."

Saurna stepped past them, his face twisting into a ferocious scowl. He stopped and turned back, fixing his glare on Elenlor. "You," he hissed softly, pointing at the trembling maid. "You will regret this, you…"

Before he could finish his sentence, Elalkar leapt forwards and seized the fair elf's collar, nearly lifting him bodily and thrusting him towards the door. "Out!" The dark haired elf was enraged. How dare this upstart come into _his_ home and threaten _his _daughter!

Reaching the door, Elalkar threw it open with one hand, and with the other, very nearly threw Saurna. Saurna stumbled and turned, his face livid. He opened his mouth to yell an insult, but Elalkar slammed the heavy door shut. The dark haired elf stood for a moment, his gaze all but igniting the wooden portal. His fingers opened and closed, clenching into fists as he stood, trying to control the rage that swept through his body.

With an effort, he buried his fury and turned back to Elenlor. She stood, clutching the doorframe for support. Her normally pale skin had taken on an unhealthy gray tinge. She stretched out a shaky hand toward him. "_Ada…_"

Elalkar was by her side in an instant, his arms swiftly enfolding her in a strong embrace. With a sigh of relief, she leaned into him. The father stroked her golden hair as she laid her head on his shoulder. He could feel her slim form tremble even as he held her.

"_Avo gor i raug,_" he whispered over her as he tightened his arms. "_Nin si, Silme._"

Comforted by her father's touch, Elenlor relaxed with a shudder. She shut her blue eyes and forced herself to be calm. The danger had passed…it had passed…

She would soon find out that she was wrong.

Very wrong.

0-0-0-0

The next day began like any other for the King of Mirkwood. He found himself caught in a long string of important, (but usually boring) meetings and consultations and looking forward continuously to the time when he could shake his role for a few hours and join the object of his affection.

"Your Majesty!" Halynder's voice was respectful, but it carried just enough exasperation to let Thranduil know that this was not the first time his counselor had tried to get his attention. The Elvenking shook his blond head ruefully and tried to focus. "I am sorry, Halynder, could you repeat that?"

With a theatrical groan, his friend started to reread a scroll of parchment.

Thranduil made an attempt to concentrate, he really did. Unfortunately, Halynder had quite possibly chosen the most boring issue to deal with at the moment. The Elvenking could only feign an interest in the thickness of the barrels that were traveling to Lake Town for so long. Therefore it was not many moments later that he found his thoughts straying to Elenlor once more.

The fair elf was brought back to reality as the scroll Halynder had been reading bounced off his forehead. Green eyes shot up to see the raven haired elf attempting to appear innocent as he studied the ceiling. Forcing back a chuckle, Thranduil lifted the offending parchment and studied it carefully. "You do realize," he said dryly, "that attacking the monarch of your realm bears a penalty of death."

"I have no idea what you are speaking of, Sire." Though Halynder managed to keep a straight face, his dark eyes twinkled.

"Indeed." The blond elf tossed the scroll back to his counselor with one hand while the other groped furiously for a spare piece of parchment within his desk drawer. "Please do continue this _fascinating_ report." His fingers latched onto the paper and slowly crunched it into a projectile.

Halynder grinned and unrolled the scroll once more. Just as he opened his mouth to begin reading, a paper ball sailed through the air and hit him squarely on the nose. The elf looked up gravely to see his king grinning. "I regret to inform your highness," Halynder quickly scooped up the ball and hurled it. "That you have just instigated a war!"

Thranduil ducked, and responded with the missiles he had been forming behind the cover of his desk.

0-0-0-0

Elenlor slipped out her door, shutting it firmly behind her. Thranduil was nowhere in sight. It seemed he would be late again. Shrugging, the elf maid started to walk toward the woods. She glanced back over her shoulder once, blue eyes fixing on the palace gates hopefully. For an instant, she wavered. What would it hurt to wait for Thranduil once? He didn't like it when she went into Mirkwood on her own.

A slight stir at the window of her own home caught her attention. Her face turned red as she realized that her father was watching her. Ever since the little incident with Saurna yesterday, he had not let her out of his sight. She had barely managed to convince him to allow her to leave.

Not wanting him to be concerned, she waved cheerfully and turning, strode forward with confidence. Thranduil would scold her once more, but she was used to that.

Besides, nothing had ever harmed her before.

0-0-0-0

Thranduil cast an anxious glance at the position of the sun outside his window. He knew that the little paper battle he and Halynder had indulged in would slow this morning's proceedings, but he had not anticipated his friend getting sidetracked into a monologue listing the many outstanding accomplishments of his infant son.

The Elvenking inched toward the door for the fifth time. Only three feet left to go…

Not noticing his monarch's rather urgent expression and the slight shuffling of his feet, Halynder rattled on, his dark eyes misty. Halden, his son, was not only the most intelligent elfling to ever grace the surface of Arda; he was also so well mannered, beautiful, charming, and so on.

Thranduil resisted the urge to run screaming from the room. He had met Halynder's son of course, and he was forced to admit that the elfling _was_ a remarkably attractive child with more than his share of brains and a sweet nature. However, that did not mean he wanted to hear of those particular traits for hours. He slid his right foot a few more inches toward freedom. Two and a half feet. Besides, he was late. Elenlor would have already left by now. She would be wandering through Mirkwood on her own, without any means of defense. Visions of spiders and other more unwholesome creatures filled his mind. His left foot joined his right.

"Am I boring you, Sire?" Halynder almost laughed at the guilty expression that crossed the fair elf's face. Eru! He looked like an elfling with his hand caught in the cookie jar!

"Of course not," the Elvenking lied politely, even as his right foot started to slide towards the door once more. '_Stop that_' he thought irritably as he glared down at it.

Now the dark haired elf did laugh. "Do not try to deceive me, _mellon nin_. You never could. No doubt you would rather be spending time with the fair lady Elenlor than listening to the twaddling of a proud parent?" His dark eyes twinkled as he saw his friend grin. "Get out of here then. I have kept you away from her too long already."

Thranduil was out the door and halfway down the hall before all of the words were out of Halynder's mouth.

0-0-0-0

Something was wrong.

Elenlor did not know exactly what it was, but the feeling was definitely there. Her feet did not skip with half of their normal grace. Once or twice, she actually stumbled. She stopped for a moment, pushing her hair out of her face, her eyebrows drawn together in a frown as realization came to her.

She could not hear the trees' song.

A chill ran down her spine, and the elf maid shivered slightly. For the first time in her long life, she was afraid to be alone. Where was Thranduil?

She shook herself and forced her feet back into their dance. He would come. He had never missed a day. Comforted by that thought, she spun with something of her usual spirit, but it still disturbed her that she could not hear the trees.

A slight movement out of the corner of her eye caught her attention. Her hear rate climbed instantly, but she forced herself to remain calm. She turned a slow circle, taking a good look.

Relief poured through her. She could not see much, the sunlight of the clearing effectively blinded her to what remained in the shadows. However, she had caught the glint of blond hair not even Mirkwood's darkness could completely hide. Thranduil was here. The elf maid allowed herself to relax, turning her back to her friend as she resumed her dance. She was safe now.

She heard the soft snap of a twig as he entered the clearing.

The trees screamed a warning that shocked her to the core of her being. She stumbled, nearly falling, and whirled. Her heart leapt into her throat and she nearly choked.

Standing in the clearing was not Thranduil, but Saurna.

0-0-0-0

_Mae govvanen, pen neth. Man morko le bar nin?- Well met, young one. What brings you to my home?_

_Mae govvanen, hir nin- Well met, my lord. _

_Man na den, Ada?- What is it, father(daddy)?_

_Avo osto. Nin si.- Do not fear. I am here._

_Avo gori i raug. Nin si, Silme.- Do not dread the demon. I am here, Starlight._

_Mellon nin- My friend_

0-0-0-0


	6. Long Awaited Love

Elenlor fell back, her blue eyes wide with fright. What was he doing here? Why had he followed her to her special place? Perhaps he had come to apologize for the scene he had made yesterday…

The elf maid forced herself to look into his eyes. She knew at once that this was not his purpose. There was something dark in the depths of the green orbs. It made her heart pound harder than ever. She spun, intending to flee into the darkness of Mirkwood.

With lightning speed, Saurna leapt across the clearing and caught her arm, yanking her back to face him. "Oh no you don't," he growled. His other hand captured her chin roughly as he pressed his lips to hers in a brutal kiss.

Disgust and horror swamped her mind. And then, surprisingly, a wave of hot anger rose through the fear that threatened to paralyze her. What right had he to do this! Balling her free hand into a fist, Elenlor swung upwards, hitting Saurna across the face. The elf broke away from her with a curse. Unfortunately, he did not release her arm.

Elenlor struggled desperately. The moment his mouth left hers she raised her voice, screaming. Saurna tried to catch hold of her free hand, twisting her captured limb painfully as he did so. Blood dripped from his mouth. Elenlor had split his lip against his teeth.

"Shut up!" he hissed venomously as he finally seized her arm. With a strong jerk, he brought her into the crushing confines of his embrace.

Elenlor kicked at him with her small feet, but they did not do much good. She could not get enough room to inflict any real damage and he was too strong. She nearly gagged as he twined his fingers into her hair, jerking her head so he could press his lips against her throat.

Tears of helplessness nearly blinded her. This was not right! She should be able to do something to stop this! Rage engulfed her mind. Her screams turned from terrified to furious. On sudden impulse, she sunk her teeth into his shoulder, biting down as hard as she possibly could.

She had one moment's incredibly sweet satisfaction as she heard him cry out in enraged pain. Then he thrust her away. Before she could flee, his hand shot out faster than the eye could follow, striking her squarely across the face.

The force of the blow sent her spinning to the ground. She landed with a thud, driving the wind out of her lungs. Stars danced in her vision as she gasped for breath. With an effort, she rolled onto her back, trying to rise. Her limbs would not cooperate. Blackness crowded the edges of her sight.

Through her haze, she saw Saurna loom over her. She tried to scream, but all that came out was a whimper. Cold fear clutched at her. She had to move! She had to escape! But her stunned body could not follow the instructions she gave it. She could only watch as he bent towards her…

0-0-0-0

Thranduil knew something was wrong from the moment he stepped outside of the palace walls. He could hear the trees.

They were crying out in anguish, their limbs thrashing.

The Elvenking sprinted into the shadows of Mirkwood, adrenaline pounding through his system. What was happening? Was Elenlor in danger? Fear for her safety put wings on his feet.

A sound muffled by the trees pierced the air. It could not have affected the fair elf more strongly had it been the shriek of a Nazgul. With a harsh cry of his own Thranduil plunged forwards.

He could hear Elenlor screaming.

There! A glimmer of sunlight! His heart leapt into his teeth as Elenlor's voice cut off abruptly. To his amazement, he heard another voice cry out. It was a male's voice, enraged more than afraid.

Thranduil burst into the edge of the clearing just in time to see Saurna's blow send Elenlor to the ground. Shocked to the core of his being, Thranduil froze for a split second.

Saurna's back was to his king. He neither saw, nor heard the arrival of the other elf, so focused was he on the fair elf maid. He bent toward her helpless figure with eager grasping hands.

The sight of the spoilt youth reaching for his love broke the Elvenking out of his momentary paralysis. With a roar, Thranduil leapt forward and caught hold of Saurna's shoulder, spinning him around to meet the fair king's oncoming fist.

The blow sent Saurna reeling. He staggered back a few paces, blood pouring from his nose.

Thranduil did not give him time to recover. Enraged, the elf swiftly stepped towards Saurna, sinking his fist into the other's midriff. Saurna would have doubled over, but Thranduil caught the collar of the young elf's shirt, bringing him up and landing another hit across his jaw.

Saurna jerked away and fell back a pace, trying hard to catch his breath. As the king came after him again, he tried to ward off the blows and even threw a punch of his own.

That was a mistake.

Thranduil dodged and caught Saurna's wrist as it sailed past his head. With a vicious twist, he quickly doubled the spoilt youth's arm behind his back, wrenching it painfully. Saurna was driven to his knees, his face contorted with pain.

The Elvenking wanted to kill him. His eyes glittered with bloodlust and righteous rage. The fair king's free hand was already reaching for the other elf's neck. He would throttle him with his bare hands…

Halfway there, the hand stopped, shaking with the battle of wills that waged within the king of Mirkwood. He wanted to kill him. Saurna deserved to die for what he had just done to Elenlor.

But he was the king. He could not kill him without a trial. According to law, he could not even judge Saurna as he would normally.

The elf had not yet left his mother's household. She was the head, and it would be her judgment that was passed on the fair youth.

Thranduil snarled, his hand practically twitching with his desire to end Saurna's life. Finally, with a growl, he curled his fingers into a fist and brought it down on the back of the elf's neck. Saurna fell to the ground without a sound, unconscious.

"Elenlor?" Thranduil turned, and was alarmed to see that Elenlor had not risen from the place where she had fallen when Saurna struck her. The Elvenking crossed the clearing swiftly and knelt by her side. "Elenlor?" His hands reached for her, his voice gentle.

0-0-0-0

Elenlor fought against the black that crowded her vision. Someone was bending over her…through her haze, she saw sunlight glint off fair hair, handsome features…Saurna! "NO!" She tried to strike him, but her hand only moved weakly. He caught her wrist and held it easily.

"Elenlor!"

That voice. That was not Saurna's voice. Her vision was clearing slowly, and she saw his eyes. They were warm;concern flowing from them. They were not Saurna's eyes. The hand that held her wrist was gentle, not bruising.

With a sob of relief, Elenlor threw her arms around the Elvenking's neck. "Thranduil!"

His strong arms held her tightly as she wept into his shoulder.

0-0-0-0

Thranduil sat on his throne, his face grim. It was not often that he occupied the enormous carved chair, but then, it was not often that he held court to condemn one of his subjects either. The fair king's features might have been carved from stone, they were so immobile.

Nearly the entirety of his court had gathered in his hall. They gazed at their king in wonder, curious as to how he could appear so uncaring of what was to transpire. However, they had only to look into to his eyes to realize how mistaken they were in that opinion.

A fierce, horrible rage, tempered by an icy calm created a glare that could have sent a ringwraith fleeing back to Mordor.

Thranduil's rage was not only for what had already transpired, but also for the law that decreed he would have no say in Saurna's judgment. He knew what Anguirel was like. For years she had turned a deaf ear to her son's growing list of indiscretions.

Would she change with cold evidence thrust in her face?

A message had been sent, not only to summon her, but also to inform the lady of Saurna's crime. It had gone out shortly after he had returned, delivering Elenlor to her father's house and Lady Anguirel's son to his guards.

Thranduil could see Elalkar now. The lord's face was dark and flushed, his eyes flashing. Lady Hirilor stood beside him, no less enraged than her husband. Both had their eyes fixed on the fair elf that stood near the Elvenking's throne, restrained by two guards.

Upon regaining consciousness, Saurna exhibited no signs of remorse. On the contrary, he had actually had the nerve to tell Thranduil that he had made a serious mistake.

It had taken all the Elvenking's control not to draw his knives and end the elf's life.

A small commotion rose from the other end of the room. Thranduil sat up a little, craning his neck to see over the heads of his people. The sound of a spear butt hitting the floor echoed sharply through the room.

At that sound, the elven people drew back towards the walls, forming a path from the door to their king's feet. Thranduil's eyebrows drew together in a ferocious scowl, cold pride and dignity radiating off every inch of him.

The door guard waited until the elves ceased their movement, then announced the raven haired elf that stood beside him. "My Lord, the Lady Anguirel."

A deathly still silence fell over the room as Thranduil rose. "Approach me, Lady." The king's voice was harsh in the sudden quiet. His tone lowered the temperature of the chamber several degrees.

With all eyes fixed on her, Anguirel raised her head and began what must have been the longest walk of her life. The rustle of her mourning attire was the only sound that could be heard. She held her chin high, her gaze fixed on her monarch, never wavering either to the right or left.

Those that gazed on her felt their brows draw together in confusion. Something had changed. What was it? Elder elves exchanged quick glances, a light of understanding in their eyes.

Dirion felt his jaw drop as his mother swept past him. At first glance, a casual observer would have said that she had not changed since the night when he had spoken to her three decades ago. She still wore the black dress of mourning. The flowers that symbolized her grief were wound through her raven hair. He could feel the almost palpable wave of sadness she had borne since his father's death.

But her eyes had changed.

Her eyes were not the gray of a rainwashed sky. They were the eyes that he remembered from his youth. The gray of iron. And therein lay the difference.

Tears dimmed the elf's eyes as he watched his mother stride forward, her shoulders firm, her back almost painfully straight. Dirion could have wept for joy and sorrow both. Joy, that he should see the strength that had been so much a part of his mother return; sorrow, that when she had recovered it, she should face something like this.

Anguirel reached the dais on which Thranduil's throne rested. Without a word she sank into a deep curtsy, her head bowed.

"Rise." Thranduil stepped down and took her hand, raising her to her feet. The Elvenking's eyes were cold, his face grim. "Lady Anguirel, you have been informed of the crime that your son has committed."

Anguirel's face paled, but she nodded. "I have, My Lord."

"Were it my choice," the fair elf said icily, "He would not still be alive for me to release him to you." Thranduil grimaced, as if his next words left a bad taste in his mouth. "As it is, you are the head of his house. His judgment is yours."

Anguirel bowed her head once more and turned to her son. "Release his arms," she spoke to the two guards. They did so, reluctantly, and stepped back. Saurna smirked.

An angry mutter raced through the room. Was he to be set free? Would Anguirel allow him to escape unpunished? Many were of the opinion that if she did, the King of Mirkwood would cease to obey the law and take matters into his own hands.

Dirion alone saw the swift spark that lit his mother's otherwise emotionless face.

Saurna did not recognize that spark. He had never seen it before. With an insolent grin at his king, the youth stepped towards his mother.

Anguirel took one step, and with a movement that was almost to swift to follow, backhanded her son viciously.

The elves gasped almost in unison. Shocked, not only at the blow itself, but also at the unexpected strength behind it, Saurna fell ungracefully on his rump. He sat on the floor, to stunned to move.

"_Raug_!" Anguirel's voice cut through the air like a knife. "You dare to stand before your king after what you have done! You should have been brought in on your hands and knees to beg forgiveness from the maid you have wronged along with the entire court!" Her eyes blazed fiercely as she glared down at him.

Still unsure of what exactly had just happened, Saurna made as if to rise, only to feel his mother's hand across his face once more. "Do _not _rise!" The lady's voice rose in almost a shriek. "Stay down! Down on the floor! Be bowed with the guilt and shame that _I _have born for years!"

The elf lady turned from him abruptly, tears pooling in her eyes. "My king," her voice was little more than a whisper. "I too must beg forgiveness. It was by my own fault that this came to pass. I was warned…" Anguirel's voice broke for a moment, and she shut her mouth tightly, trying to regain control.

Dirion could stand it no more. Stepping from the crowd, he strode to his mother and placed his arm around her shoulders in a comforting embrace.

Anguirel cleared her throat and continued, though her voice grew so soft even the sharp eared elves had to strain to hear her. "I _was _warned. By those who are wise beyond their years." Her eyes turned toward her dark haired son as he held her. Several of her other children were making their way through the crowd and coming to their mother's side. "But I did not listen. And now my mistakes have caused grief to you and your subjects. I beg forgiveness, My Lord, not only from you, but from all here."

The lady cleared her throat once more. "I regret to inform you, Sire, that I am leaving for the shores of Valinor." Dirion tightened his arms around his mother as she voiced her decision. Anguirel sighed softly. Obviously, what she was going to say next was not easy for her. "Since I will be leaving, I give my son into your hands."

Saurna shot his mother a desperate look, but she appeared not to see.

It was on the tip of Thranduil's tongue to immediately announce the blond elf's execution…but he forced himself to consider. He gazed at Anguirel intently. Though she stood tall, her chin lifted, her gray eyes were filled with tears. He could see through the rage against her son…and found the sorrow. Despite what he had done, Saurna was her son still. She was angry, _very_ angry…but she did not wish for his death.

"_Nana_," the spoilt upstart's voice was barely above a whisper. "Let me go with you…" Saurna tried to catch Anguirel's eye without success. At the sound of his voice, the elf woman shuddered, but she would not look at him. She stood firm, waiting for her king's judgment on her son.

Thranduil heard him. With a deep sigh, the king put aside his own thirst for revenge. After seeing the noble spirit of this woman, he would not be the one to inflict more pain on her. "Very well. Your son will accompany you, Lady Anguirel."

A brief flash of deepest gratitude crossed her face, before her anger covered it. She shot a glare at her son that looked as if it might burn a hole through his forehead. Thranduil smiled to himself. Though Saurna was getting what he wanted, the King doubted very much if he would enjoy the journey to Valinor.

With one quick step, Lady Anguirel was beside the spoilt youth. Her other children watched, torn between amusement and sorrow as she reached down and caught her son's pointed ear between strong fingers.

To cheers from the assembled elves, she proceeded to very nearly drag him away.

0-0-0-0

Thranduil gazed after the elf woman's retreating form in amazement. It was incredible! Who would have thought that she would ever have regained her spirit. He was saddened, he realized, that she was going to leave. Yet he understood. Her grief had been great for many years. Though she had forced herself out of her cocoon, she needed the healing that Valinor would bring. Thranduil silently wished her well.

The Elvenking stepped down from his throne and made his way through the crowd to where Elenlor's parents stood. For a moment, he frowned. Where was the elf maid? Why was she not present?

Elalkar saw him as he approached. "Sire."

Thranduil nodded distractedly. "Where is Elenlor?"

The dark haired elf lord exchanged a significant look with his wife. Hirilor's eyebrows were drawn together in worry. "She refused to leave our home, your Majesty."

"Refused?" Concern shown in the fair elf's eyes. "Was she hurt badly? What is wrong?"

Elalkar shook his head. "She will not tell us. I think, however…" the elf paused for a moment, considering his words carefully. "I think, that she will be willing to speak to you."

His mind whirling with questions, Thranduil strode quickly towards the door.

0-0-0-0

Elenlor sat on a stone bench in her family's garden, her shoulders hunched against the sunlight. She allowed her head to fall forward, hiding her face as her golden hair fell around her.

Though she did not bear many physical wounds from Saurna's attack, it had definitely left a very deep scar. She knew instinctively that such a mark would take a long time to heal, if it did at all.

Tears welled in her blue eyes. She blinked, but made no effort to wipe them away as they streamed down her face. She never wanted to leave her home again! A shudder coursed through her. If her parents had not made her come out, she would never have encountered Saurna. Of course, then she never would have met Thranduil either…but then he would not have been in danger.

The thought hit her with the force of a dwarf hammer. Because of her, he could have been injured. The only reason he came out was to protect her anyway…she could not allow it to continue. If there was even the slightest chance that he could come to harm because of her…she rose abruptly from the bench and began to pace.

She would tell him that he need not come anymore. She would not go into the woods. She would not leave her father's home! But she would miss him so. Swiftly, the golden maid banished the thought. She could not think on it. If she did, she knew she would not be able to hold to her resolution.

Wrapped in misery, Elenlor did not notice that another had joined her in the gardens.

0-0-0-0

Thranduil froze for a moment. Elenlor did not notice him, and he wondered how to catch the fair maid's attention without startling her.

As he watched, she stopped her pacing. Her slim shoulders began to shake, and he realized that she was silently crying. Forgetting himself, he rushed forward. "Elenlor!"

The elleth turned, and for a moment, he thought she would reach for him. Instead, she stepped back. "Your Highness."

Thranduil frowned. Her tone was formal. It had been very long since she had spoken so. He took a step towards her, forcing himself not to sweep her into his arms. "You were not there to see Saurna judged." His voice was concerned. "Is something wrong? Were you hurt?"

Elenlor's bottom lip trembled. "No, My Lord." She turned from him and seated herself at the stone bench. The sunlight poured over her, sparkling in her golden hair. Thranduil could see pain in her eyes, and he longed to comfort her.

"Why did you not come?"

"I did not wish to see him." Elenlor turned her eyes down, focusing on her hands as she twisted them together in her lap. "It is fortunate that you have come though, for I have something I need to tell you." A wince passed across her face, but as she spoke, her tone was steady. "You need not come to escort me any longer."

Of all the things she could have said, Thranduil was probably expecting that the least. His mouth dropped open, nearly hitting his chest. For several moments, he could not speak. "What…why…!"

Her face was pale, still streaked with tears. "I will not be leaving my home, therefore I will need no escort." She choked, but continued on. "And since I need no escort, you do not need to feel obligated to see me any longer."

"Obligated!" The word burst from Thranduil's lips as he tried to assimilate what he was being told. "_Obligated_?" He did not need to feel _obligated_ to eat or drink or breathe either…unless he was fond of living!

"I put you in danger!" Her own voice was raised to match his. A sob rose in her throat and tears pooled in her eyes. "I will not have you hurt! If I were not to leave, you would not feel it necessary to watch over me!"

Something clicked within Thranduil's mind. So she thought that he had come with her merely to make sure she came to no harm? With one stride, he came up to the bench and swiftly knelt. "Elenlor." He took her hand, even as she turned her face away from him, sobbing bitterly. "Elenlor. _Saes…tiro nin, meleth nin._" He felt her stiffen and heard her gasp at the sound of his words. She turned and stared at him, her blue eyes wide with amazement…and dare he think that he saw hope within their depths? "Elenlor," he said again. "I have not followed you for thirty years because of your safety alone." One hand gently rose to stroke her cheek, and he rejoiced inwardly when she did not turn away from his touch.

"What do you mean?" her voice was a whisper, but he could definitely see a light starting to shine in her face.

"When I saw Saurna strike you," he said quietly, "I would gladly have killed him at that second. Not only because you were harmed…but because he sought to take the one whom I have long hoped to make mine." He heard her soft gasp, but continued on. "I have treasured your friendship, all the more because I know that you do not give it to many But if you desire, I would like more."

Elenlor was weeping softly, but her face was glowing from a deep joy.

"_Melethon le, Elenlor._" Thranduil spoke the words with a shiver, half dreading the response he would receive…

He need not have worried.

Tears of joy running down her cheeks, Elenlor flung her arms around his neck, burying her face in his shoulder. "_Melethon le, Thranduil_."

After a long moment, Thranduil pulled back. Gently, he stroked Elenlor's hair away from her face. With a sigh of deepest contentment, he cupped her cheek and pressed his lips to hers in a sweet kiss.

0-0-0-0

On the first day of fall, when the leaves of Mirkwood were turning gold, the Elvenking and the daughter of Elalkar were wed.

It was a beautiful wedding, the beauty springing not from any garlands, or trappings, nor even the Lady Elenlor's lovely face. The elves of Mirkwood maintained that the beauty came from the light of love that shone from both the faces of the two who were to be joined.

They were married in the afternoon, when the sun's light poured into the palace courtyard like a stream of honey. As golden as the light was, it could not compare with the Lady Elenlor's radiance. She was alight with happiness. A crown of leaves graced her hair. On her finger was her betrothal gift, a ring made of _mithril_ with small white stones set on it. When the sunlight struck it, the lovely ring shone like a star.

The fair king was no less alight. Throughout the day he never took his eyes off his new bride. Love was evident in every gesture, every tender touch.

For that one day, the light of their love seemed to drive back the shadows that sought to claim their home, and for many years after, a ray of brilliance seemed to follow the young couple wherever they went.

But, even amongst the immortal elves, nothing lasts forever…

0-0-0-0

Raug- Demon 

_Saes…Tiro nin, meleth nin.- Please…look at me, my love._

_Melethon le, Elenlor- I love you, Elenlor_


	7. Green Leaf

**This chapter is a little different from the rest of the story. From now on, the story will jump from Thranduil in the present to the story of Elenlor in the past. For the most part, the chapters will start with the present, and when this comes along ------------- it will switch back to the story of Elenlor in the past. Hopefully I haven't been too confusing or obtuse.:) hope everyone enjoys the story:)**

Thranduil blinked, surprised to find himself near tears. The fair king brushed his hand over his eyes roughly. Why should he be crying? These were happy memories. There were _many_ happy memories. A sad smile crossed the King's face. He supposed that he should be grateful for the time he and Elenlor had shared. It had been wonderful. Short, by elven standards…but they had both been happy. And then, (the King's smile became gentle) all _three_ of them had been happy.

--------------past

Sunlight poured through the open window, coating Elenlor with its' radiance. She closed her eyes and sighed in contentment. Winter was slowly losing its' grip on Mirkwood, and the lovely elf enjoyed her first moments of the new spring. A smile pulled at the corners of her lips. Years ago, she had danced with a king at the celebration of the season.

She would not be dancing this year. A wry twist pulled at her mouth. Of course, she would not be doing many things for a few weeks yet. She opened her eyes and chuckled as she looked down at herself. Indeed, the queen wondered how she was going to raise her…growing…body from the floor.

A flutter of movement brought her delicate hand up to stroke her swelling belly. "Settle down," she grumbled playfully. "Let your poor _naneth_ rest." Despite her complaint, her blue eyes softened tenderly.

"Elenlor, what are you doing?"

The queen looked up swiftly, a smile lighting her beautiful face as she surveyed her husband leaning against the doorpost. His eyebrows were raised incredulously. A slight blush colored her cheeks even as she giggled. She supposed she must look fairly amusing, dressed in her stately gown, plopped down in the middle of the floor.

Thranduil thought her enchanting. The sunlight caught in her golden hair and spilled over her shoulders, dappling over her swelling stomach. He entered the room with a grin and stood over her. His green eyes sparked with laughter as he looked down at his wife. "Just how exactly do you plan on getting up?"

Elenlor stretched her arms up toward her husband. "Help me," she said plaintively.

Thranduil laughed, but complied with her request. "The Queen of Mirkwood," he said dryly, "should not play on the floor."

"The Queen of Mirkwood is pregnant," Elenlor countered cheerfully. "Therefore, she has a ready excuse for her eccentric behavior." Her eyebrow quirked upwards as she looked at him. "I thought that you would have left by now."

"We are set to depart," he said evasively. "The others are waiting for me in the courtyard."

His wife's eyebrow climbed ever so slightly higher. Her blue eyes appraised him knowingly. "And you have not left yet because…?" She folded her arms over her large belly, waiting for his answer.

"I merely wished to say farewell," the Elvenking's tone was wounded, but Elenlor knew him better than that.

"You," she poked a delicate finger at his chest, "are stalling."

The blond elf had no reply. After all, it _was_ true. "I do not want to leave you like this…"

"Thranduil," his wife's voice carried the exaggerated patience of one who has explained something many times. "We have been through this before." Her hands caressed the bulge of her abdomen. "The baby is not due for another three weeks. You should be back within one."

"I know that…"

"The inspection of your border patrols has been pushed aside long enough. It can not wait." Elenlor patted her tummy with a smile. "This can."

With a rueful grin, Thranduil embraced her, gave her a swift kiss, and hurried from the room.

0-0-0-0

"_Hannon le_," the fair king murmured as he took his horses reigns from the waiting stable hand. The captains of his guard were already mounted, waiting for him. Thranduil felt his cheeks redden slightly as he saw their knowing grins. All three elves were older than he…with children of their own.

The king quickly pulled himself onto his mare. The horse snorted in disgust and rolled her eyes back at him wickedly, just to let him know how much she did not appreciate standing for twenty minutes in a chilly courtyard.

Thranduil was too preoccupied to do more than stroke her neck and murmur a soothing word. With a nudge, he sent her trotting towards the gates. The captains filed out ahead of him as he turned to look back. The mare snorted again, unhappy to see the others leaving without her. She pranced restlessly. Thranduil ignored the agitated beast, his green eyes searching out the window he knew his wife would be standing at…

There. He could see a flash of blond hair. A small hand waved, then disappeared.

Thranduil groaned and resolved to make this the fastest inspection he had ever conducted. He nudged the horse once more, and she, catching his feeling of urgency, obliged by shooting through the gates so quickly she nearly left him behind.

0-0-0-0

Elenlor chuckled as she saw her husband's horse leap away. The chuckle turned into a sigh, and she drifted away from the large window. She knew he had to leave, but honestly, she was no more eager for him to go than he was.

A twinge of pain made her gasp, pressing a hand swiftly to her belly. It was gone in a moment, leaving her surprised, and slightly uneasy. The baby had never kicked her that hard before… odd.

It was many hours before she realized what was actually happening.

0-0-0-0

_Three days later._

_0-0-0-0_

Thranduil nearly fell from his horse as he rode into the courtyard. His captains were no longer smiling…in fact they were struggling to remain awake. Surprised stable hands rushed forward to claim the tired animals They had not been expecting their monarch home so soon. Especially since it had been raining steadily since the moment he left the palace.

Both king and captains were coated liberally with mud kicked up by the horses, and soaked to the skin.

Thranduil stumbled towards the palace, mumbling a farewell. He was exhausted. Perhaps, he reflected, it had not been so necessary to speed through things. But he had been so anxious to return! He sighed softly, blowing rainwater and mud out of his mouth. The fair king felt rather sheepish. If anything had happened, Elenlor would have sent a messenger after him. He need not have rushed.

Servants opened the door as they saw their king coming and quickly surrounded him. A rising wave of babbling sound threatened to drown the monarch as surely as the torrential rain.

"Enough!" Thranduil raised his hands, as though warding off a foe. "Enough! Please. Tonight is not the time. All I wish is to see my wife and sleep for a month!"

There was a nervous chuckle and the crowd parted to allow the blond elf through. He wondered slightly at the looks they gave him as he passed, and the whispers. Normally sharp eared, weariness muffled his senses. With a shrug, he ignored it. They were probably chuckling at how much of a fool he looked.

The halls of his home had never seemed so long before. He stumbled onwards, his soaked clothes dripping steadily. Finally reaching his bedchamber, he experienced a moment of intense disappointment. Where was Elenlor? The brief feeling faded into worry. It was late. She should be resting…especially in her condition. He would change out of his wet clothes, then go in search of her.

Settling onto the corner of his bed, he began to tug at a sodden boot.

"Your…highness?"

Thranduil looked up to see Halynder standing in the doorway, an unusual expression on the elf's face. He looked as though he had not expected to see his friend. The Elvenking was too tired to guess at his advisor's emotions. "Halynder. Do you know where the Queen is?" The boot came off with a squelch, leaking a pool of water onto the carpet.

Halynder's eyebrows rose dramatically. "I would assume she is in the nursery."

"The nursery?" Thranduil looked up quizzically. His sleep-deprived brain rejected what his friend was telling him as unreasonable. "At this time of night?" Water dripped from the fair elf's hair. It was making quite a mark on the bedspread. The mud might have had something to do with that as well. Elenlor wouldn't be happy with that. Realizing that his mind was going off on another tangent, he quickly prodded it back onto track. "What is she doing there?" a hint of amusement colored his exhausted voice. "Don't tell me she decided to change the decoration of the room _again_." He focused on Halynder's face, expecting to see an answering grin.

The raven-haired elf was staring at his king with that very odd expression. "Thranduil," he stepped into the room, a spark of understanding starting to light his dark eyes. "Did you receive the message Elenlor sent?"

The Elvenking stared at him blankly. "Message?"

"She sent it no more than half a day after you left."

"Ahem."

Startled at the interruption, Halynder turned to see a very bedraggled elf standing in the doorway. He was coated with mud all the way to the tips of his pointed ears, yet through the muck, the advisor could see a look of pure frustration stamped across his weary features. The dark haired elf's jaw dropped as he suddenly recognized the messenger who had left the palace two and a half days ago in pursuit of the king.

"Your highness," the elf stepped forwards, pulling the queen's letter from his pouch. He handed it to the dumbfounded king. "You have a very fast horse…sire." The messenger's voice was dry. He turned on his heel and nearly staggered from the room.

Thranduil stared at the piece of parchment in his hand. On some level, he already knew what he would read when he unfolded it. That part of him was jumping up and down and screaming. The other part of him (the one that hadn't slept in three days) was a little slower to catch on.

Halynder leaned against the wall with a grin, waiting for the news to sink in. He didn't have to wait long.

Thranduil's boot hit the floor with a thump. There was a brief, very confused moment of flying hair, mud, and wet clothing, and Halynder found himself alone in the royal bedchambers.

The elf sat stunned for a moment, then burst out laughing as he heard the uneven cadence of his friend's half shod feet flying down the corridor. Still chuckling, he set to cleaning up the muddy mess Thranduil had left behind.

0-0-0-0

Elenlor looked up, her face alight. She did not seem to see the mud that dripped from her husband's form, nor his unmatching feet. She saw only him, and she was happy.

Thranduil stood frozen in the doorway, his eyes fixed on the bundle resting in his wife's arms.

"Are you going to come see him?" Elenlor's voice was quiet, but there was a laugh hidden in her gentle tones.

Him. He had a son. Thranduil moved forward as though in a dream. He could see a small hand poking out of the blanket, and suddenly all power of speech left him. Elenlor lifted the bundle up to him, and he took it almost automatically, his strong arms cradling the fragile form. Taking a deep breath, the fair king looked for the first time at his son.

His power of speech returned with a vengeance. And, in the most tender voice imaginable (or so he would claim in later years) he lamentably said the first thing that came to his mind.

"It's wrinkled."

Thranduil blinked. For a moment, he feared he had somehow dropped the precious bundle. How else could it have disappeared so rapidly? He looked up to see his wife cuddling their son close, her blue eyes narrowed dangerously. Warning bells set off a raucous alarm in the back of his sleep deprived mind. "Not," he tried desperately to save the situation, "that wrinkled is a bad thing…"

"Thranduil." The Queen of Mirkwood's voice was layered with enough ice to quench a balrog. "I have spent over fifteen hours bringing your son into being. _He_ is the most beautiful elfling there ever was. If you do not concur…the stables are always a viable option for your sleeping arrangements."

"Elenlor, I did not mean…"

But his wife was not listening. "There there," she cooed sweetly to the swaddled babe. "Your _Ada_ greeted you most rudely, did he not? Do not worry, _ion nin,_" she cast a cold glare at her husband. "He will not do so again." With that dire warning, she presented the King of Mirkwood with his son once more.

The Elvenking wisely chose to remain silent this time. He gazed down at the small child with a feeling close to awe. He was tiny. Thranduil felt suddenly large and exceptionally clumsy compared to this delicate creature. Despite the crumpled redness, he really was a very pretty baby. A tuft of blond down covered the top of his head, waving slightly around the ridiculously small tips of his pointed ears. Almost reverently, the elf stroked his son's cheek with one finger.

The baby's eyes flickered open, half focused. They were blue, like his mother's. The fair king half expected him to cry, but was surprised and pleased when he didn't.

"Here," Thranduil swiftly handed his son back to Elenlor. "He _is_ beautiful, _Silme_."

His wife's smile was radiant. "He is perfect, _meleth nin_." The Queen of Mirkwood looked up at her husband and chuckled quietly, a teasing light gleaming from her blue eyes. "Fortunately, he takes after me, instead of his father."

Thranduil pouted playfully. "You needn't brag, Lady. Tis only too true that our son has inherited your beauty, your grace…"

The perfect elfling in question decided that he had been ignored long enough and set up a wail from his position in his mother's arms.

"Your patience…"

The fair queen laughed as she coddled her son, soothing away his tempestuous tears. "You forgot one thing, my lord," she told her king as soon as the young prince had ceased howling.

Thranduil bent over the child, delighted when his son fastened long fingers around one of the soaked braids as it swung forwards. "Mmm? And what was that?"

"He has _your_ voice."

The Elvenking grinned. The grin turned to a wince as the little one gave his hair a sharp tug. He was surprisingly strong for such a tiny creature.

Elenlor stroked her son's blond tuft of hair gently. "He needs a name, Thranduil."

The fair king gazed at the babe thoughtfully. They had, of course, discussed names beforehand, but now that he was here, none that they had spoken of seemed appropriate. What was fitting for a prince of Mirkwood? Even as he thought the name, Thranduil shied away from it. He had never become accustomed to the shadow's claim on his home. Though he knew that the term was incredibly fitting, he chose to remember his kingdom as it had been.

All at once, it came to him. He smiled at his wife, a gentle light in his eyes. "I think we should name him Legolas."

Elenlor returned the smile. "Legolas," she whispered down to the yawning infant. "Welcome to the world, my little green leaf."

0-0-0-0


	8. Gwiwileth

Present

Legolas had grown quickly. Too quickly, Thranduil thought sadly. He knew that humans would have scoffed at his idea of 'quickly' but to his immortal mind, his son seemed to achieve inches before his very eyes. The boy had always been into everything, and had a dangerous habit of slipping away from his parents quietly to investigate new things. Many were the times Thranduil would have the child with him while he was attending to some business, become engrossed for a few minutes and look up to find his son had gone missing.

The Elvenking's mouth curled as he remembered one time in particular…

---------------------Past

" '_da_ '_da 'da…_"

Many were the elves that cast an amused smile at their king as he passed, carrying his chirping son. Prince Legolas chattered nonstop in his baby dialect, tugged at his father's braids, tried repeatedly to climb onto the fair king's shoulder, and struggled to be let down whenever Thranduil came to a halt.

" _Galadh,_" Legolas pointed and squealed with glee at his own cleverness.

"Yes, Legolas," Thranduil winced and disentangled the prince's fingers from his hair for the umpteenth time. His mind was only half on his son at the moment. He had business to attend to with the master of the hunting hounds, and decided that Elenlor could use a break from watching the irrepressible bundle of blond energy.

"_Aew_!" the elfling nearly threw himself out of his father's arms as he sought to pursue a sparrow.

"Yes, Legolas," The fair king swiftly readjusted his son and sighed deeply. "It's a nice bird, isn't it?" Directly ahead lay the dog pens, and Thranduil could see Elae instructing a new helper in the care and feeding of the fierce hounds.

"_Torog_."

"What!" The Elvenking looked down at the blond elfling, startled. Legolas grinned, happy to have finally caught his father's attention. "_Torog_." He repeated gleefully, pointing a chubby finger.

Thranduil stifled a chuckle as he followed the infant's line of sight. "No, Legolas. Not quite. That is Master Elae." The fair king did not know how the prince had come by such a description. Though Elae was taller than almost anyone else (by about half a head) and heavily muscled, he still looked very much like an elf.

Legolas frowned at the correction, but did not refer to the master of the hounds as a troll again.

"Elae," Thranduil stepped forward, still grinning to himself. The hounds master turned, and seeing his king greeted him warmly. Quickly, the Elvenking brought up the matter he wished to discuss with the burly elf.

As his father became more and more involved in his conversation, Legolas became increasingly more agitated. He was _bored_. The precocious toddler began to struggle and squirm in an attempt to get down. "_Nu_!" he demanded, pushing against the arms that held him.

Thranduil absentmindedly complied, continuing his discussion with hardly a break. Upon touching the ground, the prince's eyes lit on the most interesting thing around. "_Huan_!"

"Yes, Legolas," The response came almost automatically, the king not really focusing on what his son was saying.

"_Huan, huan, huan, huan…_"

Caught up with his business, Thranduil did not notice that his son's chirping voice was swiftly moving further and further away.

Legolas crawled under the dog pen fence, his blue eyes glowing as he surveyed the creatures inside. They were all extremely large, hairy beasts, each one taller than the prince and weighing at least three times as much. They snapped and growled at each other as they fought over the last few bones from their feeding. One in particular caught Legolas' attention. He sat in the very center of the pen, gnawing at a meaty femur as his yellow eyes darted around. Undoubtedly, he was the largest of them all. Scars traced his frame beneath thick fur, and he snarled at anything that came within five feet of him.

As if carried by some unerring instinct for trouble, the blond prince gave a squeal of delight and toddled towards the ill tempered mutt. "_Huan, huan, huan…_"

0-0-0-0

Elae crossed his arms over his chest, a frown pulling at the corner of his mouth. "There was something else I needed to talk to you about, sire." The frown became slightly more pronounced, as though the subject was deeply unpleasant. "One of the dogs has become increasingly more vicious as of late. I didn't want to say anything, because he still does his job, but yesterday he tried to take a chunk out of one of my helpers. We may…we may have to destroy him."

Thranduil nodded, understanding how Elae had been reluctant to bring the subject up. The elf loved all the hounds under his care. The king knew that had it been himself that had been snapped at, Elae would never have brought the matter to his monarch. However, the dark haired master knew his duty, and he would not allow his helpers to be jepardized.

The Elvenking opened his mouth to speak, but was interrupted by a very loud snarl, closely followed by a clear, childish voice. "_Huan_!"

For less than half a second, the father was paralyzed. "Legolas!" His body was in motion before his brain had truly registered the fact that his son had somehow managed to crawl into the dog pens. In one smooth leap, he had vaulted the fence, landing amidst the large canines. Green eyes darted back and forth frantically, trying to catch a hint of gold amidst the black and brown coats of the hounds. After what seemed like an eternity, (all of two seconds) he spotted him.

Legolas sat between the feet of an extremely large, shaggy dog. He crowed and giggled cheerfully, quite pleased at his own cleverness. In one hand, he held the bone the dog had been chewing on.

Thranduil leapt forwards, meaning to snatch his son away. Alarmed at his sudden movement, the shaggy creature rose with a snarl, baring long fangs. He stood over the blond princeling, growling intensely. The Elvenking froze. He was afraid that if he antagonized the dog, it would take out its' frustration on his son. Slowly, he reached toward the elfling…

Only to have his hand nearly taken off. The dog lunged forward, snapping. Thranduil drew back with a viscious curse

Elae had followed his king over the fence, and was approaching with a long, hefty stick. Another elf had also entered the pen, weilding a club of his own. They approached slowly, not wanting to upset the fierce mutt.

Unfortunately, he was quite upset already. His yellow eyes darted back and forth. Snarling even more loudly, he lowered his head towards the blond prince. Legolas seemed unconcerned. The elfling giggled and continued his play with the dog's bone.

0-0-0-0

Elenlor strode through the palace grounds, in search of her husband and son. The sunlight gleamed in her golden hair, and she relished the feeling of the cool wind. Lately, it seemed as though she was never able to step outside. Her son kept her very occupied. A rueful smile quirked the corner of her mouth. Much as she loved him, the queen would be the first to admit that Mirkwood's prince was a handful. He was in to everything! The other day she had been just in time to stop him from pitching head first out of an open window. She sighed softly. The blond elfling had also tipped over a container of sugar, eaten an arrangment of flowers, tried to cut his own hair with a dagger someone had left on a table (said person had been scolded within an inch of their lives) and hid from his mother for two hours along with Halynder's small son, Halden. All on the same day. All in all, it had been very kind of Thranduil to take their elfling along with him as he conducted his business.

Unfortunately, she knew from experience that her husband had a tendency to become…occupied, with whatever he happened to be doing at the moment, and let Legolas wander off. The last time he had offered to watch the blond prince, she had found Legolas outside, in the process of wading into one of the deeper garden ponds. Thranduil was inside, at his desk, and completely unaware that their son had left his study. She sighed again. Still, it was nice to have a break every once in a while.

The Queen of Mirkwood turned her steps toward the dog pens, remembering her husband mentioning business there earlier. She hoped that he if he were there, he would still have Legolas with him.

As she drew closer she began to hear a confused jumble of shouting and cursing. Desperately hoping that it did not have anything to do with her son, she broke into a run.

0-0-0-0

Elae and his helper were closing in from the sides, their clubs at the ready. Thranduil moved inched forward, hoping to snatch his son right before they attacked.

"_Daro_!"

The Elvenking started in surprise, turning to see his wife racing toward the pen, her long hair streaming behind her. He turned his attention back towards the hound…and received another shock.

At the sound of her voice, the dog had relaxed, his manner becoming friendly.

Elenlor leapt over the fence and swiftly positioned herself between the hound and husband. "_Daro,_" she gasped again. "_U-henilye, Thranduil_." As if to prove her point, she turned, and before Thranduil could stop her, reached for their son.

To his astonishment, the dog allowed her to lift the elfling. Panting in satisfaction, the beast settled himself at the lady's feet, his tail wagging slightly.

"I have brought Legolas outside to see the dogs before," Elenlor explained, bouncing the prince on her hip. He giggled cheerfully and tried to catch her hair with his chubby fingers. Thranduil admired the practised way she kept the golden strands just out of his reach. "This one," she motioned to the creature at her feet, "took a liking to him." She smiled at her husband. "When he saw you running towards him like that, he probably thought you meant to harm Legolas."

"_Huan,_" Legolas crowed, reaching down towards the hairy mutt. "_Huan, huan, huan, huan…_"

"Yes, Legolas," Thranduil sighed softly, reaching out to take his son. The moment his fingers made contact with the elfling's body, the dog rose to its' feet with startling swiftness, it's teeth bared. The Elvenking drew back, startled.

The blond prince smiled sweetly at the beast. "_Huan nin._"

Thranduil's green eyes widened in alarm. "Legolas, no."

A hurt expression passed across the toddler's face. "_Huan nin_," he said plaintively. Recognizing with some inborn instinct that his father would not give in, he turned his cherubic countenance toward his mother. "_Nana, huan nin._"

The fair king sensed he was losing the battle. "Elenlor…"

"Why not?" Elenlor asked curiously. "He's obviously willing to protect Legolas. I think it might be a very good idea." She reached down to stroke the dog's shaggy brown coat. "Besides, our son will be more likely to stay in one place if he has something to keep him occupied. I've watched him play out here, and he will sit for hours just petting this one." The dog in question leaned against Elenlor's legs in satisfaction. The lovely elf smiled sweetly at her husband. "Oh please, Thranduil."

The Elvenking groaned, but it ended with a sigh. "Fine." He glared at the dog. "But there must be one thing that is very firmly understood first." Reaching out, he almost snatched Legolas from his wife's arms.

It happened so fast, the dog was unable to prevent it. Seeing Legolas in what it perceived to be danger, it snarled angrily. Thranduil very nearly snarled back.

Startled, the dog ceased its' angry noise. It tilted its' head to the side, confused. Legolas seemed perfectly happy in the arms of the elf, indeed, he grinned as the blond king bounced him lightly. The hound sank back down at Elenlor's feet, watching warily for any sign of peril. Gradually, he relaxed, even to the point of allowing Thranduil to stroke his head.

Elenlor grinned and took her son back. "I think that you've watched him enough for today, _meleth nin_. _Hannon le_." The Queen of Mirkwood nearly laughed at the look of relief that spread across her husband's face, but quickly restrained herself. Giving him a quick kiss, she exited the pen, followed closely by the dog.

Thranduil smiled in admiration as he watched them leave. He did not know how his wife managed every day, but she deserved praise for keeping control of their son. He could hear her voice as she moved away.

"_Man uva le esse i huan, ion nin_?"

There was a brief silence as Legolas seemed to consider. Then… "_Gwiwileth_!"

Thranduil groaned…but could not help smiling at the same time.

0-0-0-0

Galadh-Tree 

_Aew- Bird_

_Torog- Troll_

_Nu-Down_

_Daro! U-henilye, Thranduil.-Stop! You don't understand, Thranduil._

_Huan nin- My dog_

_Meleth nin- My love_

_Hannon le- Thank you_

_Man uva le esse i huan, ion nin_?- _What will you name the dog, my son?_

_Gwiwileth- Butterfly_


	9. Haircut

Present

Thranduil's eyes were staring off into the distance, his green gaze fixed on things he had not allowed himself to think of in years. Had it been so long ago? Indeed…Legolas was now almost grown. How had time gone by so swiftly? With a start, the Elvenking raised himself from his chair and paced his study. Ruby red light filtered in through the window, reminding him that sunset was near. The day was slipping away into the soft embrace of night.

How many days had slid away since he had last seen her? Too many. He missed her. A wave of sadness rose and threatened to drag him under a swell of emotion. The fair elf ruthlesslessly pushed it to the side. He did not want to dwell on the pain! It reminded him of the harsh words had recently spoken to his son. Thranduil winced even as he thought of it. Valar, he had not _meant_ to sound so cold! Legolas was all he had left. On some level, he knew that he was too protective of his child, but he could not help it.

Of course, he had been protective of Elenlor too. A sound that was half a chuckle, half a groan rose in his throat.

------------------Past

Knives held at the ready, Thranduil circled his opponent, breathing heavily. His eyes darted here and there, watchful for any sudden move. Weariness tugged at his limbs, but he pushed it to the back of his mind. He could not afford to have it impair his timing or judgment. One moments' weakness might cost him his life. However, he could not merely push aside months of hard work, with little sleep and the growing worry of the shadow in his kingdom. It was catching up. The fair elf knew it in every move he made. He lunged, but found his blades blocked easily. Falling back, he resumed circling. Sooner or later, he knew that it would become too much. He would not be able to defend himself. The Elvenking sliced again, coming at an angle from the side. He had hoped that the move would take his foe by surprise, but, once again, his weapons were turned aside.

Suddenly, it happened. As the lithe elf stepped backwards, his boot heel caught in a small hole, throwing him off balance. Normally, such a thing would have affected him very little, if at all. Now however, he found his reflexes had been dulled. He was unable to compensate in time and found himself falling rather ungracefully backwards. The fair king _was_ able to land in such a way that he was not winded, but he knew it was not enough. His opponent was too skilled to let such an opportunity slip. He expected to feel a blow at any moment…

Several such moments passed. The Elvenking sighed gustily and slowly pushed himself to his feet. "Elenlor, why did you not attack?"

The Queen of Mirkwood stood before him, looking rather uncomfortable with her very own long knives clutched tightly in her delicate hands. She shrugged helplessly.

The two monarchs had seized an afternoon and fled to their favorite clearing. Several years earlier, Thranduil had ordered a special set of knives made for his wife, and had instructed her in their use as often as time permitted. He knew that he could not be at her side every moment of every day, and found it comforting to know that she was armed and could defend herself if ever the need arose. Unfortunately, time had been at a bare minimum for quite a while. Mirkwood had recently pulled through a rather hard winter, and a new Master of Laketown was not making trade easy. The king sighed again.

It wasn't that Elenlor didn't learn quickly…she did! Incredibly quickly. She was fast, and light on her feet. She could block any stab ever thrown at her. But she _would not_ attack. It frustrated Thranduil to no end. He knew that she did not wish to harm him, even inadverdently, but he could not gauge how well she was learning if she would not demonstrate her skill! Another reason for her hesitance (he suspected, but had no proof) was because she did not think it was entirely necesarry. He could not get her to wear her knives. In fact, the only times he saw the things was when she (reluctantly) brought them out to practice with him.

"_Ada_!"

Thranduil looked up to see a small elfling scamper through the brush, golden hair flowing behind him as he ran. He threw a challenging look over his shoulder… "You can't catch me, _Ada_!"

The Elvenking felt his body protest loudly to the abuse he was putting it through. It wanted to sleep…at this moment, he realized with a dry grin, Legolas was probably right. He was more likely to catch a Nazgul out of midair than an exuberant, energetic princeling. _Oh well,_ he thought, _such is the price of parenthood. _Sheathing his own blades, the fair elf abandoned practice for the day and charged after his son.

0-0-0-0

Elenlor sank to the ground gratefully as she watched her husband and son race around the clearing. The knives rested across her lap, gleaming in the sunlight. Her nose wrinkled slightly as she gazed at them. Oh, they were beautifully made of course, long white handles and elvish runes, wickedly sharp and exquisitely balanced. But she did not see the need. It was not very often that she left the palace anymore, now that there was Legolas to consider. When she did, she was _always_ with Thranduil, and more often than not, two to five guards. She would not mind learning to use the blades so very much…if it did not involve striking out at her husband. She worried that her inexperience with the deadly weapons might bring him to harm, especially when he was as tired as he had been recently.

The lovely elf smiled as she watched her husband lift their son high over his head, much to the blond prince's delight. She could not bear the thought of slipping with one of those knives…she shuddered softly. Though he constantly tried to have her strike out when they sparred, she could never force herself to do it.

He also wished her to wear the blades wherever she went. Elenlor ran a delicate finger along the length of one of the weapons thoughtfully. She knew that he worried for her, but she really did not see the need to protect herself thus. What was going to attack her in the safety of the palace?

The fair queen's musings were interrupted as Legolas raced towards her, giggling madly She swiftly placed the knives to the side and caught him up in her arms, laughing with him. Thranduil plopped himself down at her side, breathing heavily. He reached forward and tweaked a lock of Elenlor's hair, pretending to be surprised when she swatted at him. "I meant to get him, I swear…" with a grin at her skeptical expression, he plucked the blond elfling from her arms and tickled him. Legolas shrieked happily and squirmed out of his father's grasp, swiftly returning to his mother. His blue eyes fastened on the blades she had discarded, and they lit with fascination. One hand was already reaching for them before she trapped it in her own. "No, Legolas." A frown creased her smooth forehead briefly. This was another reason she did not care for the weapons. Legolas was _far_ too interested in them. Every time she brought them out, he wanted to hold them. They were not safe for such an inquisitive elfling.

Elenlor cuddled her sweet son as he calmed down somewhat. They sat for quite awhile, watching the afternoon fade around them.

The Queen of Mirkwood stroked the prince's golden hair as he lay curled in her lap, dozing. She loved his hair. It was thick and grew long. Every morning he demanded that she braid it like the warriors. Like his father's. By nightfall, he had usually collected a store of twigs, leaves, grass, and dirt in the intricate twinings. She didn't mind though.

"We have to return soon, _Silme_." Thranduil said lazily, admiring the way the sunlight caught in his wife's fair locks. He was reluctant to leave their small refuge, but knew that he could not abandon his court for long. A mischievious grin pulled at the corner of his mouth. Halynder had probably organized search parties by now…

Elenlor nodded, but made no move to rise. She too was not overly eager to return. It was not often these days that she could be alone with her family, and she treasured such times.

"Here," Thranduil gently scooped the slumbering Legolas out of her lap, cradling his small body in strong arms. "I will carry him." The blond prince stirred, yawned, cuddled against his father's bulk and began to snore lightly. The fair Queen smiled gratefully. She loved her son deeply…but had to admit that his growing body was growing more and more difficult for her to carry. Especially when he was asleep. He went all boneless…rather like a cat.

Elenlor scooped her knives up and rose gracefully along with her husband as they began their walk back. A smile teased the corner of her mouth. She wondered what Halynder would say when they returned…

0-0-0-0

The raven haired advisor was waiting for them at the gates, a scowl creasing his forehead. Thranduil could see that he had worked himself up into a fine fit and was prepared to deliver a long lecture. However, the Elvenking had a plan.

The moment his friend opened his mouth, Thranduil held a finger to his lips, shushing him. "Quiet," he said reproachfully, looking down at the still sleeping prince. "He is asleep."

Elenlor's shoulders shook with surppressed laughter as she saw the indignant expression on Halynder's face.

Her husband carefully kept his features blankly innocent, but she could see the mischievious gleam that shone in his green eyes. As they passed the raven haired elf, she heard Halynder grumble under his breath.

"You may have won this time, but I will not forget this. I can deliver a lecture tomorrow morning just as easily as tonight." With a final dour look, he strode away.

Elenlor giggled quietly. "Shame on you, _hir nin_. Using your own son to avoid trouble."

"I do not know what you are talking about, _meleth nin_," Thranduil's tone was hurt, but he could not hide a hint of laughter.

0-0-0-0

The Elvenking carefully laid his son on the elfling's bed, tugging off his small shoes. He considered removing Legolas' tunic, but decided against it. He didn't want to wake the blond prince. Thranduil pulled the covers up, tucking the boy in. A smile curled at the corner of his mouth as he looked down at his child. Though he would not have admitted it to anyone save perhaps his wife, he was still in awe of this fair being. The fierce protectiveness that had risen when he had first laid eyes on the elfling had not abated. His equally fierce love had only grown.

The blond elf pushed his son's golden hair away from his face, noting the collection of dirt and grass that had managed to work itself into the intricate braids. Elenlor would sigh about it in the morning.

Leaning down, he placed a gentle kiss on Legolas' forehead. "_Losto mae, ion nin._"

There was a whine from beside him, and the next thing he knew, Gwiwileth placed both paws up on the prince's bed, his wet nose snuffling at his young master. Thranduil could almost see worry creasing the hound's hairy forehead.

"He's alright," the Elvenking said, scratching behind the dog's ears. Every time they left without him, Gwiwileth seemed to fear that the prince would come to harm. He could not be dissuaded from examining the elfling upon his return.

Apparently, the mutt came to the same conclusion and hoisted his large body onto the bed, curling at his master's side.

Thranduil shook his head and sighed. "Do not let Elenlor see you there." With a final scratch behind the dog's ears, he rose and departed.

0-0-0-0

The Elvenking entered his chamber just in time to see his wife placing her knives on a high shelf. Hearing him enter, she turned and smiled brilliantly. "There. I think I have finally found somewhere he will not be able to reach."

Thranduil suppressed his groan and sigh with more difficulty than usual. He knew whom Elenlor spoke of, and did not believe for one instant that there was _anywhere_ their elfling could not reach. Legolas possessed a drive to get what he wished, and it took both parents to keep the blond prince out of things that could be potentially harmful. Such as Elenlor's knives. For some unaccountable reaon, Legolas had become increasingly enamored of the weapons and strove to attain them constantly. Not just any knives either. Only Elenlor's. He would pass Thranduil's weapons without a glance. Therefore, whenever she was not using her blades, the Queen of Mirkwood struggled to find someplace where she could leave them and be assured that the prince would not get his hands on the razor sharp edges.

The Elvenking had pointed out on more than one occasion that if she simply _wore_ them, as he had asked her to many times, Legolas would never be able to lay so much as a finger on their reflective surfaces without her knowledge.

But she _would not_ wear them. It made him want to tear his hair out in large, blond, chunks. It was more frustrating than listening to Halynder talk about his son. He only wanted to be sure that she was safe when he was not with her. Was that too much to ask?

Elenlor noticed her husband's scowl and grinned halfheartedly. "You do not think so?"

"My dear," Thranduil sighed, "I believe that if you set you weapons on the peak of Mt. Doom, our son would find some way to acquire them." His green eyes gazed at her fondly. She was so precious to him. "If you were to wear them, you would always know where they were…"

The queen tossed her blond hair impatiently. "We've gone over this before. There is no _need_ for me to wear them. I am safe, here in our home. I do not leave unless you are with me anymore." Crossing the room, she put her arms around his waist and looked up at him affectionately. "You worry too much, Thranduil."

"It is impossible to worry too much," he growled back, even as he embraced her. With a soft sigh, she laid her head on his shoulder. He felt his scowl lighten, and stroked the gold hair that fell down her back. "It is just something that would ease my mind, _Silme_," he said softly. "I know you do not think that it is neccesary, and maybe it is not. At least not where your safety is concerned." He looked down into her lovely face and felt his heart twist. "But it would make me worry less." He saw, with a leap of hope, that her expression was thoughtful. She was considering it at least. Perhaps she would go along with the idea after all. "And just think," he said lightly. "You would always know that Legolas would never be able to touch them."

The Queen of Mirkwood laughed, even as she reached up to kiss him.

0-0-0-0

"Legolas."

A singsong voice floated through the halls of Mirwood's palace. Servants and courtiers smiled as they heard it.

"Leeeegooolaaas…"

The Queen was playing hide and go seek with the prince.

"Le…go…las…"

Now, if the Queen's voice had been of a different pitch, they would have surmised that she was no longer playing and had actually lost track of the golden haired elfling. Chores would be abandoned, papers left unsigned, and the whole of the household would have joined in the search. The task had become nearly a daily routine.

Elenlor peeked around a corner, listening intently. Legolas usually gave himself away with giggling long before she would have actually spotted him. The elfling was really quite adept at hiding himself.

Nothing.

Grinning, she set off down the hall, calling her son as she went.

0-0-0-0

Legolas heard his mother, but at the moment, his mind was concerned with more important things. Such as clinging to the shelves in her and _ada_'_s_ bedchamber in an attempt to climb them. He was really doing very well. He had already nearly scaled the entire set.

Blue eyes gleamed as he raised his head over the last shelf and beheld the prize he sought.

_Nana's_ knives.

He struggled a little getting down with the blades, quickly abandoning an attempt to climb one handed and stuffing the weapons into his tunic. Luckily for him, they were sheathed.

Gwiwileth whined plaintively from the floor, not liking his master to be out of his reach.

"Shhhh," Legolas hissed down, nearly unbalancing himself in the process. "_Nana_ will hear you." With the knives safely out of the way, he easily clambered to the floor and sat himself on the carpet, cross legged. The blades were in his hands in moments, their sheathes discarded.

The blond prince eyed their gleaming surfaces with wonder, and for a while, amused himself by pulling faces and laughing as he saw himself reflected back. This was the first time he had ever held them…_Nana_ did not like for him to even touch their cases.

The prince stood and swung the knives through the air, imagining himself fighting off the spiders that threatened Mirkwood. He was Legolas, the Mighty! Imaginary arachnids fled before him in droves, but he gave them no quarter.

Afte several minutes of this play, Legolas decided he had slain enough enemies for one day. He plopped back down on the floor and grinned at Gwiwileth. The dog whined softly, seeming to know that what his master was doing was not something that he _should_ be doing.

Legolas blew hair out of his eyes irratibly. That one lock was always in his face. No matter what he, or _Nana_ did, it always fell in his eyes. Said eyes lighted on the blade in in his small fist. Without hesitating, the elfling lifted the knife and sliced (rather awkwardly) through the annoying lock.

With amazing ease, it fell into his lap. The prince was enthralled. That had been kind of fun. Just to make sure, he tried on another golden strand. Same effect.

How long this continued, he wasn't sure. When he was finished, there was a circle of golden braids and loose hair around him. He looked around for something else to cut, and his eyes fell on the dog at his side.

"Here, Gwiwileth…"

0-0-0-0

Elenlor's eyebrows drew together in concern. It was not usual that Legolas managed to hide this long. She would search in her and Thranduil's bedchambers, and if he was not there, she would alert the staff.

The queen pushed her door open, striding forwards. "Legola AAAAAAA!" Elenlor could not help the scream that forced itself through her lips.

There, in the center of the room, sat her son. He held her knives in his small hands. His hair had been cropped to no more (and sometimes significantly less) than a handsbreath, all around his head. It lay in shining piles around him.

Gwiwileth whimpered, and raced out of the room. Elenlor realized only then that there was also a goodly quantity of brown hair on the floor with the gold. Leaping forward, she snatched the blades from her son's hands, ignoring his cry of protest. His cry turned to a yelp as his mother slapped his hands. Hard.

Elenlor's eyes were hard. Behind their icy front, she trembled. He could have cut himself at any moment! Imagining walking in to find a pool of blood instead of hair, she shuddered. "_Ion nin,_ are you allowed to touch _Naneth's_ knives?"

Legolas wilted somewhat, rubbing his hands disconsolantly. "No."

"Legolas!" her hand touched his shorn hair. "_Why_!"

The blue eyes were downcast. "_U-Iston._"

She fought the urge to scream. A small sliver of guilt pierced her anger, but it only made her more enraged when she thought of it. If she had been wearing her blades, as Thranduil had asked her to, this would not have happened.

If Thranduil had not made the knives in the first place, it would not have happened either.

Somehow, she though as she grimly grabbed her son and hustled him from the room, this was all Thranduil's fault.

0-0-0-0

Thranduil poked at his food absently, wondering where his wife and son were. Usually, they joined him for the evening meal. In fact, if anyone was absent, it was always him.

The door opened, and Thranduil straightened, smiling as he watched his wife enter the room. Legolas walked at her side, but her body all but blocked the elfling from his father's view. Something else caught his attention, and he felt his smile widen. "_Meleth nin_! You are wearing your knives!"

The icy glare he received took him aback. He had not seen a look of such malice linger in his wife's lovely eyes since his rather infamous first words to his son. Elenlor was obviously furious.

With a low sound in her throat that almost sounded like a growl, the queen pulled her son in front of her. Thranduil stared, open mouthed. "What _happened_!" Legolas' hair was cropped incredibly short all around his head. It looked as though he had been given a haircut by a blind barber. The Elvenking's green eyes fell on Elenlor's knives, and a vague suspicion started to grow in the back of his mind.

Elenlor sat Legolas down, then joined her husband. He nearly winced under the power of her intensely evil look. "He was in our room, Thranduil," she said, her voice low. "And he cut his hair with these…things!" she motioned to the weapons at her waist.

Somehow, the fair king realized, this was all his fault. He decided against reminding his wife that she was the one who had left the blades unattended. "It will grow back, Elenlor. He was probably just curious to see what he would look like without his hair…"

"I suppose we should be thankful he did not wish to know what he would look like without his ears." Her voice was bitingly sharp. She stabbed at the food on her plate viciously. "_You_ are the one who had those knives made."

Thranduil smiled at her charmingly. "_You _are the one who decided not to wear them." Elenlor's face turned bright red, and her eyes narrowed. Before she could respond, however, her husband took her hand gently and continued. "What do you want me to say, Elenlor? That I am sorry I care about your safety? I am not. I had those made for a reason, and _you_ are the one who would not listen to me." The Elvenking glanced down at their sheared son and smiled wryly. "His hair will grow back. He was not injured." He squeezed her hand for a moment. "Wear your weapons, Elenlor."

Releasing her delicate fingers, he returned his attention to his meal. There were a few very long moments of silence…

"Is that the order of the king?"

Thranduil smiled. He could hear in her tone the apology that she was too emarrassed to actually say. "No," he said softly. Setting down his fork, he reached towards her and gently stroked her cheek. "It is a request, from one who loves you."

The queen kept her gaze down for several more moments, but when she finally looked up, a slight smile pulled at her lips. "In that case, I suppose I have no choice but to acquiece." She glanced toward their son, and sighed softly. "And I also believe that our charming young prince is going to need some hats."

Legolas looked up when he heard his title and grinned at his parents. The effect of the sweet innocent smile surrounded by the chopped evidence of his mischief struck Thranduil as funny, and he began to laugh, first quietly, then louder when he saw his wife's indignant glare. She stared hard at him for a moment, then turned back to her son. And she couldn't help it. The light melodious tinkle of her laughter suddenly rang out as a counterpoint to the deeper chuckling of her husband. Dinner was forgotten as the king and queen of Mirkwood gave full vent to their mirth, and even the servants couldn't help smiling broadly as they cleared the dishes away.

0-0-0-0

_meleth nin- My love_

_Ion nin- my son_

_U-iston- I don't know_

_Losto mae, ion nin- Sleep well my son_

_Hir nin- My lord_

_0-0-0-0_


	10. A Queen's Sacrifice

Present

She had worn the knives from that day on. The Elvenking groaned as memories started to come quickly, forcing their way through his consciousness. He did not _want_ to remember. He did not want to think of the day…

Pain tore through his heart. Why must this be?

Others had lost loved ones. Many went into almost trances, their grief mercifully wiping away the sharper details, allowing reality to pass them by. Why could that not be the case for him?

His sorrow was horribly unforgettable. He could recall with uncanny accuracy every instant of that day.

Thranduil sat in his chair, his head bowed. He remembered.

He remembered _everything…_

----------------Past

Elenlor hummed softly to herself as she walked, her watchful gaze focused on her child. Legolas skipped and ran ahead of her, only to come dashing back with a stick, a flower, some odd leaves…

The fair queen sighed softly as she looked up. Mirkwood's trees had grown thick, their branches forming a roof over the path. She wrinkled her nose slightly. It was a stifling roof. No sunlight could force its' way through those leaves.

Thus, she and her son were in search of sunlight.

They were leaving Mirkwood.

"No, Legolas," Elenlor called ahead as she saw her son prepare to dash after a squirrel. "Stay on the path."

Thranduil had argued when she said she wished to take Legolas for an outing. He did not have time at the moment to accompany them, and Mirkwood had grown increasingly more deadly. So they had struck on a deal. If they would stick to the path, he would not have a problem with them visiting the meadow just outside Mirkwood's borders. It would have been faster to cut through the trees to reach their destination, but although Elenlor would have done so herself, she would not risk her son in that manner. Still, it was only fifteen to twenty minutes towalk. Maybe half an hour.

"_Nana, tiro_!" Legolas ran back to his mother and tugged at her hand, pointing ahead of them.

The lovely elf smiled down at her son. "I see, _ion nin._" The trees were starting to grow further apart. A gleam of sunshine forced its' way through. She could see the end in sight. A mischievious grin pulled at her lips. "Come on. I will race you, Legolas!" The queen broke into a run, to the delight of the blond princeling.

"No fair, _Nana_! You didn't count!" Giggling, he rushed after her.

0-0-0-0

Elenlor burst through the last few trees, laughing. The sunlight filled her eyes, nearly blinding her with the sudden brightness. She was amazed at how hard she had actually had to run to stay ahead of her son. He was very fast for an elfling.

Legolas caught up with her, his blue eyes wide as he gazed out over the meadows. Elenlor suddenly realized that this was the blond prince's first time outside Mirkwood's boundaries. He had never seen anything like this.

"_Nana_," he whispered, tugging at her hand. "Where are the trees?"

"No trees here, Legolas!" The queen caught him up and spun around, whirling until the sky and ground seemed to merge. Legolas shrieked and laughed, throughly enjoying the process. With a plop, Elenlor sat down hard, her son in her lap. She was flushed, her hair falling over her face, but she loved it.

"Again!" Legolas bounced up and down, inadvertently driving his small elbows into his mother's ribs.

The fair elf shook her head helplessly. She couldn't even see straight at the moment, much less stand up!

Seeing that his mother was unable to rise, Legolas set off to find a way to entertain himself. He was fascinated by the lack of trees across such a large area. Nothing in Mirkwood was remotely like this. His whole life he had been surrounded by the close growing oaks of his home.

"Do not wander too far away, Legolas," Elenlor called after him. The prince aknowledged her instruction and quickly scampered off.

The fair queen leaned back on the palms of her hands and tilted her head towards the heavens, enjoying the sunlight. Though the sky was blue, she could see clouds in the distance. She frowned. They might shorten her day with her child. She would keep an eye on them.

Bringing her attention back onto the elfling, she saw that he was rapidly clambering up the side of a hill a ways ahead. The queen stood quickly. "Legolas…" Too late. He had disappeared over the other side. Elenlor made a face and strode after him. She did not really want the prince out of her sight.

As she reached the bottom of the small hill, she was surprised to see her son coming back over the top, his small face wreathed in smiles. "_Nana_! Look, _Nana_! Come see!" Seizing her hand, he dragged her with him.

Elenlor chuckled as he pulled her up the incline. She wondered what new 'treasure' he had found. The queen gasped as she saw what he had discovered.

The hill sloped down into a bowl like depression. Covering the ground were hundreds of yellow flowers, of a kind Elenlor had never seen before. A sweet scent rose gently, not overpowering even with their great numbers.

"They're lovely, _ion nin,_" she said happily, sinking down amidst the delicate stems. Legolas was already busy, picking them by the handful and dumping them into his mother's lap.

"We will bring them back for _Ada_," he said cheerfully, depositing another bundle. "Since he could not come with us."

Elenlor grinned, imagining Thranduil with a bunch of flowers. "I am sure he will love them."

Time passed quickly, the sunlit morning fading to afternoon more swiftly than Elenlor would have believed possible. Soon, they should head home, she realized. The fair queen was reluctant for the time with her son to end, but reminded herself that they could always return.

Perhaps next time Thranduil would be able to accompany them. A soft smile lit her lovely face as she thought of it. Her husband was very busy, and she cherished every moment they had together. A day spent outside of Mirkwood might do him good. He needed to relax every so often or he would work himself to a nervous wreck and have to be shipped off to Valinor.

Elenlor, rose, preparing to call Legolas…she froze, listening intently. What was that? There was sound in the air that she could not place. It did not belong. A soft chiming noise. Metal striking metal. Something rattled, and her ears perked up. Her body tensed. She could not be certain, but it almost sounded like chains…

0-0-0-0

Daelyg looked back over his slave line with satisfaction. It had not been easy plucking a few extras out of Laketown, but he had done it. He had kept his trade going for years now, and one couldn't do well in a business like his without some wily ways.

Daelyg was tall, strong, and above all, cruel. Not only did he deal in broken hearts and shattered lives, he betrayed his own kind. Oh, he would sell the greater majority of his wares to humans, but every so often, he would single a few out and give them as gifts to the goblins of the Grey Mountains. Payment to make sure that he would cross over in safety.

The slave trader knew that he was walking a thin line, traveling so close to Mirkwood after going through Laketown. There was at least a trade agreement between the elves and the humans, and he did not know how deeply it ran. Would the woodelves attack to save those from Laketown?

He couldn't help it. Ever since he had started dealing with the goblins, he had a secret wish to snag one of the fair folk that dwelt in Mirkwood. The human fairly drooled whenever he thought of what the goblins would pay to have one of the Eldar in their slimy grasp. He was not a fool, however. He would never _ever_ venture under the shadows of Mirkwood's massive trees. No. It was the first rule he had ever learned in his business. Do not go after your victim in their own home. Homes were protected. Guarded. And there were usually other people in the dwelling that would hear the scuffle and come to help. You waited until your victim left their home and was in unfamiliar territory.

He had seen elves outside of Mirkwood, of course. They stayed in Laketown frequently. Even then, Daelyg was not so stupid as to pursue them. Elves had a nasty reputation as being excellent fighters.

If he were ever to capture one, he would want a child. He snorted at himself. How often did one _see_ an elven child without guardians outside of its' home? Never.

"Daelyg," one of his men came alongside him. "We're awfully close to the wood." Salen glanced along the slave line, and continued in a hushed tone. "What if one of those new ones knows some of the elves…?"

Daelyg jerked his head irratibly. Salen immediately fell silent and resumed his position at the back of the line. Daelyg sighed. He knew Salen had a point. But he couldn't help it.

"Chief!" A tall, lanky man came rushing towards Daelyg, his eyes wide. The slave driver immediately recognized Trian, his scout. Something in the man's look made him take immediate notice. There was something important happening.

Trian gestured wildly, telling the front leaders to halt the slave line. Daelyg's eyebrows flew high up on his forehead. If Trian thought they should stop, this was _really_ important.

The man reached his leader and caught hold of Daelyg's arm. "You have to see this."

0-0-0-0

Elenlor shivered slightly. The clouds she had noticed earlier were a lot closer. Something was wrong. The faint sound had stopped, but she still felt uneasy. The hair on the back of her neck prickled unpleasantly. It was time to go. She opened her mouth to call Legolas…

"An elf!"

The words froze in her throat. Her sharp hearing could hear the whispered words clearly, but she soon wished she couldn't.

"Not just one. See, there's a little one too."

"Well done. Get the others. We'll take the boy."

"What about the woman? She's pretty good looking…"

"No. I've heard things about elves. No adults. We'll kill her and take the child. Hurry, get the others up here. Leave two to watch the slaves, and tell the others to be quiet."

Elenlor felt a bitter taste rising in her mouth. Her back was to the slavers, and she felt hideously vulnerable, but she forced herself to stay that way. If they thought she had seen them, they would attack immediately, and she needed all the time she could get.

"Legolas," she whispered. "_Tolo hi, Legolas_."

Her mind was whirring even as her son raced towards her. Her first impulse was to snatch him up and dash towards Mirkwood. She realized, that this would be impossible. There was no way she could carry Legolas and hope to outrun anything.

Legolas could not outrun a fully grown human male. He would need time. She would stay behind; fight them off for as long as she could. She quailed at the idea of her golden boy running through Mirkwood alone, but there was no other option. Legolas could get help…before she could open her mouth to instruct the child, she rejected the idea. If Legolas knew that she would be in trouble, he would not leave her side. He would 'fight' for her. She had to find another way to let someone know what was happening without telling him.

There was only once choice left open to her.

She smiled cheerfully at her son as he reached her. Masking her inner turmoil, she bent and embraced him. Legolas was used to hugs and eagerly threw his small arms around his mother's neck.

Elenlor buried her face in his shoulder for one instant. She could not spare any more time. Drawing back, she forced herself to smile. "Legolas, do you like my knives?"

The blue eyes lit up. "Yes!"

Using the cover of her body, the elf queen drew one of her blades and held it out to her son. "Here. Take it. This one is yours." She watched the awed expression on his face as he took weapon. Her heart felt as if it would break. As soon as Thranduil saw her blade, he would know that something was wrong.

"_Hannon le, Nana_!"

"Would you like to have the other one?" She gently stroked his cheek as he nodded eagerly. "Well, I will tell you what you have to do." Taking hold of his shoulders, she turned him until he faced the woods, his back towards her. "You have to beat me home."

His voice was eager, excited. "A race, _Nana_?"

"Yes." She wanted to cry, but there was no time. "A race. But there are rules to this race, Legolas." Elenlor brushed gentle fingers over his hair. "Rule number one. To win the knife, you have to run all the way home, and beat me there. Rule number two…" her voice almost cracked, but she quickly mastered herself. "You can _not_ look back. Do you understand? If you look back before you make it home, I win."

Legolas was nearly bouncing up and down with excitement. "I understand!"

The elf queen wanted to hold him fiercely, but she could not. He would suspect. Swiftly, she kissed the top of his head. "_Melethon le_, _Legolas_."

Surprised, Legolas looked up at her. "_Melethon le_, _Nana_." An impish gleam lit his blue eyes. "Ready?"

Elenlor crouched, as though she too would shoot off. "Set." '_Run hard, my little green leaf.'_

"Go!"

In a blur of gold hair and limbs, the prince was dashing away.

Elenlor had not moved. Slowly, she drew her other blade. Tears rolled down her face as she watched her son run. Never before had she realized just how beautiful the sight was. A tremor shook her body. She did not want to die. She wanted to live. She wanted to see her son grow, and watch him play for years to come. The queen thought of her husband and choked. She wanted to hold her husband again, to feel safe in the strong circle of his arms.

"Hey! He's getting away!"

"You go after him, the rest of us will take care of her."

The elf queen's body tensed. She could hear footsteps racing toward her. A heavy body. Human. He was not coming for her. This was the one who was going after her child. The knuckles of her delicate hand turned white as she gripped the long handled knife. For her son, she would give everything. Even her life. '_Forgive me, Thranduil. You know why I do this._'

The human was ten feet behind her…now five…he was coming even…

In a blur of speed, she lashed out. Holding her weapon parallel to the ground, she sliced through the air so quickly the wind whistled.

It cut through the human's throat like butter. He fell with a gurgle. His blood poured out over the bunches of flowers Legolas had picked.

Shouts of outrage echoed. Men raced toward her, weapons held high.

The Queen of Mirkwood stood her ground. Righteous rage rose within her as she saw her enemies approach. How dare they _think_ to harm _her_ son! Though she longed to hurl challenges at them, she clamped her lips tightly shut. She could not allow herself to make a sound. If she let loose a cry, Legolas might hear.

And if he heard her cry out, he might come back…

0-0-0-0

Thranduil was worried. He could not put his finger on what was wrong exactly, but something was tearing at his peace of mind. Perhaps it was the growing storm clouds, coupled with the fact that his wife and son had not yet returned from their outing.

"Is everything all right?" Halynder looked up from a letter he was signing, his eyebrows drawn together. "Thranduil?"

The Elvenking nodded distractedly from his position beside the window. It offered a very good view of the gates, and he wanted to see his family the moment they returned.

"You never were a good liar," Halynder said dryly. Though his tone was light, a frown creased his forehead. Rising from his seat, he came and laid a gentle hand on his king's shoulder. "They will be fine. I am sure Elenlor will return before the rains begin."

Rather than comforting him, Halynder's words only served to strengthen the intangible fears growing in his mind. He could hear the taut undertone in his friend's voice, and realized uneasily that Halynder was worried as well.

A shout from the gates brought Thranduil's green eyes snapping back around. The gaurds were yelling, they were opening the heavy wooden doors…

An icy wave of fear gripped the Elvenking's heart. He could see his son darting through the gateway. Only his son.

Behind him, Halynder gasped. Thranduil felt his knees suddenly weaken with shock. Clutched in Legolas' fist was one of Elenlor's knives.

Without a word, the fair king whirled away from the window and sprinted from the room. He could hear Halynder following close behind him. Blood pounded in his ears, accenting the accelerated beat of his heart. A powerful, nameless emotion drove him faster and faster through the halls of his home. Elves quickly moved out of his way, drawing to the sides of the corridors.

"Legolas!" Thranduil burst into the courtyard. He could see one of the elves on guard trying to persuade the prince to release his mother's weapon. Legolas was obviously unwilling to comply.

"_Ada_!" Seeing his father, the elfling broke away from the guard and raced toward the fair king. 'I won, _Ada_, I won!"

"Legolas!" Thrnaduil fell to his knees and caught his son by the shoulders. "Legolas, where is _Nana_?"

"I beat her home _Ada_! I won! See?" Legolas waved the blade wildly to illustrate his point. " I won _Nana's _knives!"

Thranduil was hard pressed not to shake his son. "Legolas," he said quietly, trying desperately not to let his urgency color his tone. "Listen to me, this is very important. I need you to tell me what happened. Why did _Nana_ give you her knife?"

"We had a race," the blond prince said, somewhat warily, uneasy at his father's tone of voice and expression. "_Nana_ said I had to beat her home to win. She gave me one knife and said if I won, I could have the other." Legolas cocked his head to the side, wondering why his father seemed so upset. "I did say 'thank you,' _Ada_."

" I know, I know you did," Thranduil almost laughed, but was afraid it would turn hysterical. "Did she say anything else?" The Elvenking felt as though he was being slowly smothered. Elenlor would never have given Legolas the weapons…unless something was horribly wrong. "Did she?" The fair king could see his son thinking about it. The blond brows drew together, blue eyes narrowed…

"She told me that I could not look back…"

An agonized cry burst from Thranduil's throat, echoing eerily in the suddenly silent courtyard. For a moment, he could not move. Could not think! Elenlor!

Legolas jumped in alarm, eyes wide and frightened as he saw the look on his father's face. "_Ada_, I am sorry…"

"No! No, Legolas, it is not you, _ion nin._" The king stood quickly and thrust Legolas in Halynder's direction. "Go with Halynder, Legolas."

The raven haired elf swiftly took hold of his prince, lifting the elfling with ease. His heart pounded in alarm as he saw his friend's face. "Thranduil?" Never before had he seen such an expression of fear. Not fear for oneself, but for someone dear.

Thranduil shook his head. He could not say what it was he feared. "Take care of him." He turned and raced away. Halynder could hear him shouting for soldiers. If he knew his friend at all, the fair king would be gone within minutes.

"_Mas na Ada badye_?" Legolas whispered, his eyes still very round.

"_I aran na badye utuvo_ _Nana lin_, _ernil_." The dark haired elf strove to keep his voice light. He did not want to worry the elfling needlessly. "Come on. We will go to my home and play with Halden. Would you like that?"

Legolas brightened a little at the mention of his playmate, but Halynder could still see haunted shadows in the blue depths. "_Na_ _Nana_ _mae_?"

The counselor paused, unsure of what to say. He wanted to say 'yes,'. He wanted to ease the child's mind and reassure him…but he could not do it. Not with any honesty. "_Im estel_, _pen neth_," he finally whispered. "_Im estel_."

0-0-0-0

Thranduil burst through the gates, fifteen elves at his back. They ran through Mirkwood, light and swift as shadows, though considerably more deadly. The fair king had decided against horses. Elenlor had told him where she planned on going, and it was not far. It would take longer to prepare the horses to leave than to just get there!

Fear gave wings to the king's feet. His men were hard pressed to keep up with him. Many were the times when all that could be seen of him was a golden glint of hair, weaving through the trees.

'_Elenlor_,' he thought as his heart twisted in his chest. '_What have you done_?'

0-0-0-0

Elenlor gasped, falling back a pace. Her opponents pushed forward halfheartedly, none of them wanting to be the first within reach of her blade.

Blood streamed from a wound on her left arm. It was not deep, but painful. However, she had harmed them more than they had harmed her. Three men lay dead at her feet. There were five left. Six, if she counted the one who stood at the back and screamed at the others, urging them on. She was tiring, and he sensed it.

She spun the dagger skillfully, weaving a deadly pattern through the air. '_Thranduil, you would be proud of me. You taught me well_.'

Soon, she knew they would overcome their fear. They would rush her, and she would not be able to hold all of them off.

They were coming now. She ducked as one swung at her clumsily with a sword. Spinning in under his arm, she drove her blade up into his rib cage. Blood gushed over her hands, but she did not have time to think about it. Elenlor jerked her weapon free, just in time to meet the blade of another.

A line of agony traced its' way across her ribs and she hissed, pulling away. One of them had come at her from the side, while her knife was occupied. They were surrounding her now, clutching at her with their hands.

A panic rose within her. Old memories of Saurna rushed into her mind. She struck out desperately, wildly.

A hand caught her wrist. Her arms were being twisted behind her back. The queen kicked and fought, but could not pull herself free.

"Stop!"

Elenlor looked up to see the man who had stayed behind coming towards her. There was a smirk on his face. She straightened as much as she could being held by his ruffians. Determined to face him like the queen she was, she glared at him with cold dignity.

Daelyg seemed taken aback…but only for a moment. He hefted the spear he held in his hands and looked at her with mock regret. "Such a pity," he said softly. "We could have used you when we reached the mountains…but you are just too much of a troublemaker."

0-0-0-0

Thranduil burst through the last trees, his eyes rolling back and forth, searching desperately. Where was she! He continued running, spotting a small hill. Perhaps she was on the other side.

Maybe there was nothing wrong with her…if she was in trouble wouldn't she be yelling for help? Wouldn't she be screaming? Maybe she was all right…

With that thought in mind, the king of Mirkwood crested the hill just in time to see a human plunge a spear into his wife.

0-0-0-0

The pain was horrible. She gasped, trying to draw breath through punctured lungs. The hands were slipping away from her arms and she was falling. Golden hair fell over her face as she hit the ground. There was something warm and wet flowing down her side.

A roaring sound grew in her ears. Was it the pounding of her heart? No…it was a voice. A voice she recognized. She could hear the clash of steel on steel. Blurred images passed before her eyes. She could not see through her hair…but somehow, did not have enough strength to push it away.

"Elenlor!"

Thranduil. It was Thranduil's voice she heard. The fair queen almost didn't recognize it. She had never heard him sound like that before.

Gentle hands lifted her, pushing the golden strands out of her eyes. She was glad. She wanted to see him again. Pain flared through her body as he pulled her into his arms. The agony was too great. She moaned.

"_Silme_!" She could see his face. Tears formed in the corners of her blue eyes and she tried to smile for his sake. Summoning her strength, she brought her hand up, weakly stroking his cheek.

"I am sorry.."

"Do not speak!" His arms tightened almost convulsively around her. "Rest, _Silme_."

Sorrow for him filled her heart. He had seen the dreadful wounds inflicted on her. He knew what they meant as well as she, but he was trying desperately to hold on to her. If he did not let her go, it would break his heart.

0-0-0-0

Thranduil pressed his hand over the gaping wound, trying to halt the crimson tide. He could not do it. Precious ruby droplets slipped past his fingers, falling to the ground.

"Thranduil…"

"Elenlor, please," the Elvenking met her eyes, begging. "Please, do not speak. We will get you home, the healers will treat you…"

The fingers on his cheek gently covered his lips. Though the blue eyes were glazed with pain, her gaze was surprisingly steady. "I will not make it home." She tried to inhale, choked, coughed. Blood flecked her lips, staining them red.

"No!" His voice was fierce. "No! You will live!"

Elenlor shook her head weakly. Her eyes suddenly grew wide, and anxious. "Legolas! Legolas…"

"He is safe," her husband reassured her. "Halynder is watching him. We will go home and you can see him after we make sure you are all right…" he could see the denial in her face, though she did not speak it aloud. What was even more horrible, was that he knew she was right. She was slipping away…he was losing her…

"_Istelye_," she gasped, trying to draw in enough breath. "_Istelye_…why I did this…"

The fair elf nodded, biting his lips. For their son. She had given everything for their son. He knew. He understood. He would have done the same in her place. Valar, why could it not have been him!

Blue eyes stared up at him, bright in a face that was pale with pain. Blood flecked lips moved, forming words even as he tried to silence them. "He will live."

"Yes," Thranduil could not tear his gaze away from those eyes, begging…pleading with their owner to stay. "He will live."

The lips curled into the faintest of smiles.

The blue eyes closed into the sleep that should never fall upon the firstborn.

"No! NO!" Even as he spoke, her hand slipped away from his face. He caught it and held it desperately, willing his own strength to flow into the delicate fingers. Was it his imagination, or were they already cold? "Elenlor, come back…please…" Tears streaked unheeded down his face, falling on her white skin. "Please, _meleth nin_!"

But the fair queen could no longer hear his voice. She was gone.

The King of Mirkwood caught her up in his arms, buried his face in her hair, and wept as his heart shattered.

0-0-0-0

The elven warriors bowed their own heads in grief, the loss of their queen a burden they all shared.

With a deep sigh, the captain, Troas, turned his attention to the matters at hand. His men had swiftly discovered the slave line and those who guarded it. They were in the process of freeing the slaves. The traders who were left alive were being gathered together. There were not many of them. Only three. The two that had been left to watch the slaves, and the man that had slain their queen.

The elves were not overly gentle in their handling of this particular human. Troas had taken custody of the human himself, his eyes cold and hard. His king deserved the right to mete out punishment to this…filth. That was the only thing keeping him from slitting the slave trader's throat immediately.

"My thanks, master elf," A man came up to Troas and bowed gravely. He was in better condition than some of the others, and the elf captain realized that he most likely came from Laketown. Troas nodded briefly, aknowledging the human. Another time, he might have been more forthcoming, but not now. Now, it was all he could do not to join his king in weeping. Queen Elenlor had been loved by all.

The former slave started to turn away, then paused. "Master elf, I would ask a favor of you."

Troas cocked his head curiously. "What would you ask, human?"

The man motioned towards the captured slavers. "We would like to take them back to Laketown, so that they may be tried."

The elf captain considered briefly. "You can take those two. This one," he tightened his grip on the leader painfully, "stays with us."

Dark hair fell over the man's pale face as he bowed again. There were bruises marring the skin, and Troas was quick to notice that though he was in better shape than some, he had not escaped ill treatment completely. The two slavers would not have an enjoyable trip. As he straightened, the man glanced over his shoulder at the weeping Elvenking.

"I am sorry," he said quietly, "for your loss."

"Not ours alone," Troas could not keep the pain entirely from his voice. "All of Mirkwood's." He saw the man's confused look and sighed softly. "She was our Queen." Tears stung the captain's dark eyes and he swallowed the lump in his throat with difficulty.

The human's eyes grew wide in disbelief. He turned his gaze on the slaver held in Troas grasp and shook his head almost pityingly. "Whatever fate befalls you," he said softly, "you deserve it."

The former slaves drew away, taking their tormentors with them, leaving the elves with their king.

The sobs that shook Thranduil's shoulders gradually lessened. Slowly, he laid his wife down, brushing the hair away from her lovely face. It was odd, Troas thought disjointedly, but from the shoulders up, she looked as though she merely slept. Her face was peaceful, the pain mercifully wiped away.

The king rose to his feet gracefully, and turned. When his green gaze came to rest on Daelyg, the human shuddered in Troas' grip. Well he might quail, the captain thought grimly. Were his king to aim such a look of murderous rage in _his_ direction, he would find a task that need his immediate attention…on the other side of Mirkwood, or preferably, even farther away.

"Your name, human." The fair king had never sounded so cold. His voice was layered with an icy rage. Fair features had taken on a stone-like quality. Only his eyes betrayed the emotions that ran beneath the marble exterior.

"Daelyg," the human croaked, even as he shook.

"Release him," Thranduil ordered his captain. "Give him his weapon."

Troas immediately did as ordered. He hesitated slightly as he handed the human's spear back, but only because his queen's blood was still bright on the blade. Daelyg seemed a little more confident with the weapon in his hand, but Troas noticed he did not meet the Elvenking's eyes.

The dark haired elf drew in his breath sharply as he saw the weapon that dangled from his king's hand.

Thranduil held the queen's blade lightly, his gaze fixed on the slave trader. "You took something from me, human," he said softly. "I can never get it back." With lightning speed, the fair elf leapt forwards, the dagger whistling as it sliced through the air.

Daelyg howled and jerked back, thrusting his spear awkwardly. Blood ran in a thin line from the new cut carved across his cheek. His cumbersome weapon did not come close to touching Thranduil. As soon as he had cut his opponent, the king was already leaping backwards, his wife's dagger held at the ready. The elven blade glittered coldly in the gray light.

Storm clouds gathered overhead as the two fought. Lightning flashed and thunder rolled, but nothing could distract the elf king from his goal. The human flinched and gasped at the light and noise, but his opponent was unmoved.

If anything, the storm's fury seemed only an extension of the terrible emotion pouring from those green eyes.

Daelyg thrust with his spear almost desperately, recognizing that he was extremely outclassed. He feinted with his weapon, stabbing right, then swiftly swinging left as Thranduil spun away from the deadly tip. The spear haft caught the Elvenking across the back, sending him flying to the ground. Hope rose in the human. Before the elf could regain his feet, he leapt forward, stabbing down.

Thranduil rolled, seized the wooden haft and used it like a ladder, pulling himself to his feet before the human could jerk it free from his grip.

Fear shone in the man's eyes for one brief second…

Thranduil drove his blade deep into his opponent's heart, twisting viciously.

Daelyg looked down at the dagger in his chest with surprise. A mocking grin spread across his face as he met the Elvenking's green gaze. "You got what you wanted," he croaked. "Happy?"

The fair elf actually shook with rage. "What I wanted!" His voice was little more than a harsh whisper. "I wanted what I had." He jerked his blade free and pushed the human away, his eyes cold as Daelyg fell to the earth. "and I already told you…I can never get it back."

0-0-0-0

Halynder stood before the palace gates, heart thudding with dreadful anticipation. The dark haired elf paced as he waited for some sound…some sign of his friend's return.

Legolas remained with the councilor's wife and child. Halynder had not wanted the boy here if things had gone badly. The fair prince had seemed quite content to stay with Nuel and play with Halden, but Halynder could see that worry that darkened his blue eyes.

The elf ran a hand through his dark hair in frustration. He wished he could have gone with his king. At least he would know by now what had happened, instead of enduring this uncertainty.

A gust of wind tugged at his robes, and the elf shivered. Not so much from cold as dread. The dark clouds overhead had thickened since the king had left, and lightning played across the dreary background. Halynder almost started in surprise as he felt a drop of rain spatter across his nose.

The one drop was swiftly followed by many more. Almost before he knew it, the councilor found himself standing in the midst of a downpour. In seconds, he was soaked to the skin. He knew he should retreat indoors…but could not force himself to do so. He wanted to be on hand the moment his king returned.

A sound caught the raven haired elf's attention. He froze, uncertain of what it portended. To a human, it would have sounded like nothing more than a strong wind through trees.

Halynder shuddered. His elven ears could hear the voices within the keening wail. With a great effort, he restrained himself from covering his ears with his hands. He had only heard such a sound once before in his life, and that was a black time in Lasgalen's history.

The trees were weeping. They were crying as they had the day Thranduil and his army of wood elves had returned from the great war, carrying many of their folk and their own king in the peaceful sleep of death. Halynder groaned almost involuntarily. He could hear the weeping growing louder and it tore at his heart. The elves atop the wall cried out in distress, not knowing what was wrong, only that they could hear their trees mourn.

All over Mirkwood the elven hearts quailed, as the sound of grief penetrated every dwelling. Fathers looked for their families, and mothers held their children close, trying to comfort elfling's tears even as they felt their own strength waver. In Halynder's home, his wife Nuel held Legolas in one arm, her son Halden in the other and wept with them both as they heard the trees wail.

In the courtyard of the palace, Halynder heard at last the sound he had waited for.

Thranduil's deep voice carried through the heavy wooden doors, and the raven haired elf felt his heart drop deep within his chest. His king's voice, rather than contrasting the sorrow of the trees, accented it with sorrow of his own. "_Edro_."

The doors swung open silently.

Thranduil stood in the gateway, his head bowed over the limp form in his arms. Halynder would have cried out, but his voice caught in his throat, choking him. Rain poured with pounding intensity on the Elvenking as he slowly entered his courtyard. The elves who had accompanied him silently followed behind, their faces a mute testimony to their monarch's pain.

"Thranduil!" Halynder moved towards his friend woodenly. His dark eyes were wide with the horror he could not suppress. As he drew closer, he choked. There was blood on his friend's clothing. Great crimson stains marked the fabric of the Elvenking's shirt. "Are you..?"

"No." his head shook, tossing droplets of water. "It is not my blood." His arms tightened almost convulsively on his unmoving burden. Pain glistened in his green eyes.

Halynder looked down and felt tears prick his eyes. They spilled unheeded down his cheeks, hidden in the torrential rain.

If it were not for the blood, he would have sworn that the queen merely rested. Her face was peaceful, and as lovely as it had always been.

No more, however, would Mirkwood see the light from her eyes. The blue orbs were closed against the world, and Halynder did not have to be told to know that none would see her eyes again this side of the sundering seas.

The Queen of Mirkwood was dead.

0-0-0-0

Tolo hi, Legolas.- Come here, Legolas 

_Melethon le, Legolas- I love you, Legolas_

_Hannon le, Nana- Thank you, mama._

_Mas na Ada badye?- Where is Ada going?_

_I aran na badye utuvo nana lin, ernil.- The king is going to find your mother (mama), prince._

_Na nana mae?- Is mama well?_

_Im estel, pen neth. Im estel.- I hope, young one. I hope._

Edro- Open 

_0-0-0-0_


	11. King's Sorrow

Thranduil sat at his desk, staring off into the distance. Had it been just this morning he had said goodbye to Elenlor? Kissed her and embraced their son? How could something like this have happened so quickly?

His hair was still damp from the rain, but someone had managed to persuade him to change out of his bloodstained clothes. He did not know who at the moment. In fact, he did not even remember changing.

The pain had been pushed away for the moment. In its' place was an emptiness that made him wonder if the pain was such a bad thing after all. He could not deal with it now, but he knew it would be back.

His hands were trembling. Soon, Halynder would bring his son. He would have to tell the elfling…he would have to tell him… His mind shied away from the knowledge he would have to impart to his son, unwilling to dwell on it himself. Shock could only keep the agony at bay for so long however. Thranduil leaned his elbows on the desktop and placed his head in his hands with a moan.

He could hear movement outside the door. Legolas' chirping voice echoed in the hall. Halynder murmured something, and Thranduil heard the councilor depart.

"_Ada_?" The young prince appeared in the doorway. "What is the matter?"

Thranduil did not respond to his son. He sat at his desk, his face buried in his hands. How could he do this? What could he say?

"_Ada_?" Legolas clambered into his father's lap, his small hands reaching up to stroke the Elvenking's cheek.

At the prince's touch, Thranduil slowly circled his son with his arms, clinging to the small blond elfling as if his life depended on it. He met the child's eyes and nearly despaired. Did his eyes have to be exactly her shade of blue? His features a permanent reminder of that which was lost?

Legolas' blond brows drew together in confusion. What could upset his strong father so badly? And how could he help? His eyes brightened as a thought occurred to him. If he didn't know what to do, at least he knew someone who did…

"We will find _Nana_," he told his father decisively. "She will know what to do…" Legolas broke off in horror as he saw his father's eyes fill with tears.

Without a word, the Elvenking gathered his son close to him and sobbed.

Legolas cried as well, his father's tears frightening him. For if his father cried, surely something truly horrible had happened…

0-0-0-0

Thranduil gazed at the elf seated across from him and felt his heart clench in grief. He had always respected and admired his father-in-law, even before he and Elenlor had wed. He did not think that this was a discussion they would ever have…

Elalkar's eyes were dark with grief. Thranduil had sent a message the night before, informing him and Hirilor of their daughter's death, and the Elvenking had known then that he would eventually have to face the older elf.

But how could he? How _could _he face Elalkar? The raven haired elf had entrusted him with a priceless treasure, and he had failed in his duty to protect her. A sharp blade of sorrow twisted in his heart even as he thought of it. No one could regret his failure more than himself. If he had just run a little faster…if he had left _before_ Legolas arrived home, Elenlor would still be alive. He had _known_ something was wrong! Why hadn't he gone to find her instead of waiting!

"Thranduil?" His father-in-law's voice drew the fair king back to the present. Elalkar was gazing at him intently, a look of concern etched across his face. Thranduil wondered how many of his thoughts had appeared on his own features to garner such a look.

"I…" the Elvenking tried to speak, but could not force himself to push the words from his throat past his lips. Swallowing the lump that tried to choke him, he made another attempt. "I…I am sorry, Elalkar." Sorry! How inadequate a word. "I failed in the duty you entrusted to me. I…" Thranduil choked as his wife's face floated through his mind. "…I could not protect her…"

Before he could say another word, Elalkar rose from his seat abruptly, a cry on his lips. "_Aran nin_! Do you think I would cast blame on _you_ for this!" The dark haired elf lord shook his head in frevent denial. "No!" Dark eyes looked on his son-in-law with new compassion. Slowly, Elalkar sank back into his seat, but still leaned forward intently. "Thranduil…" tears sparkled, but did not fall. "Thanduil, do not berate yourself. I gave Elenlor into your protection many years ago," he stopped, fighting his own grief. "You have never failed me, or her." Silence reigned for a few moments, broken only by the patter of rain against the glass. "Even before Elenlor had chosen," Elalkar said quietly, "I knew whom I wanted for her husband." A single tear slid down the elf lord's smooth cheek, but he seemed not to notice. "She was not…outgoing, as you well know, but shy. Yet she gave to you her friendship." Elalkar smiled brokenly. "And you recognized it for the precious gift that it was. You were willing to be no more than her friend, though you loved her." The older elf sighed softly, leaning his head back against the chair and closing his eyes briefly. Two more tears rolled down his face. "You cherished her, and I know if you could have in any way prevented it, no harm would have ever touched my child."

Though needed, the gentle words undid Thranduil's control. He could have stood against blame, indeed, he would almost have welcomed it, for he felt it was deserved. But the compassion in Elalkar's voice was too much. The fair elf felt tears of his own slip down his face.

Elalkar stood, his dark hair falling around his shoulders. Wordlessly, he turned towards the door. Thranduil pushed himself to his feet and followed the elder elf. With his hand on the knob, Elalkar looked back at his king. "Hirilor and I," he said softly, "will not be staying long." He saw the shock on the Elvenking's pain stricken face and wished he could lessen it somehow. "I…I have been here long, _aran nin_, and seen many things. I did not think I would have one of my children leave Arda before myself." Dark eyes met green, and Thranduil could see the wealth of grief in Elalkar's gaze.

"When?" the fair king asked numbly.

"Soon." Elalkar sighed softly, as though the world had rested its' weight on his shoulders, and he found himself unable to carry the load. "After Elenlor's funeral." The elder elf placed a hand on Thranduil's shoulder. "I just wanted you to know, before we left, that you have become very dear to me, _aran nin_, even as one of my own children."

Elalkar embraced the stunned elf, smiling as he felt the Elvenking's arms tighten about his shoulders. Thranduil was strong, both in mind and body. The elf lord had felt that strength before…but now, as he held his daughter's husband, Elalkar could feel the fair elf's pain. He could see Thranduil's strength waver and stumble as his support was ripped away. It grieved him almost as much as the loss of his daughter to see the one she had loved filled with such sorrow.

"_Navaer, aran nin_," Elalkar whispered. He pulled back and tried to smile, but his grief was too great. He would offer what comfort he had, and pray that it would be enough. "_Navaer…ion nin._"

0-0-0-0

The day of the Queen's funeral dawned cold and grim. Rain poured in an unceasing torrent, as it had since the day of her death.

Despite the rain, nearly all of Mirkwood's inhabitants appeared to wish their monarch farewell. Sorrow weighed heavy on elven hearts, dragging their spirits into the rapidly deepening mud. An almost tangible grief pervaded the very air.

A song rose from the fair folk of Mirkwood, but it was not happy. Beautiful, as everything the elves made, but full of grief rather than laughter. Sadness, rather than joy. The elves mourned for the queen they had come to love. Tears fell almost as heavily as the rain that poured over them as Thranduil's voice rose over those of his people, his deep tones laced with pain.

Many were the pitying glances cast at the elf prince where he huddled between his grandparents. A light had gone out of the golden child with his mother's passing. He clung to his grandmother, the Lady Hirilor, clutching the last gift his mother had given him. The white handles of her knives gleamed in his small fists, and he would let no one even attempt to take them from him.

Slowly, one by one, the elves paid their respects and drifted away until none were left.

None…save for the king.

0-0-0-0

Thranduil stood as though carved from stone, all but unaware of the cold rain that had soaked through his clothing long ago. His golden hair was plastered to the back of his neck and his forehead.

Through the shifting, gray, sheets of water his green eyes were fixed on the stone that marked Elenlor's grave. It was beautifully carved marble, smooth, unmarked by any flaw or chisel scratch, save for one side. On the side that faced the west, flowing elvish script was cut deeply into the stone.

_Elenlor, Bereth Lasgalen_

_Nae! Mor na i or ar le silme, Elenlor._

_Orë nin na blung si Im vanwen meleth nin._

_Avo raen palan, hiril nin! Nai hiluvalmet le i annứn._

The Elvenking stood, immobile as the marble itself. He could hear the elves slowly departing through the trees. Only when he was sure he was alone did he allow a sigh of relief to escape him. A king had to be strong in his peoples' eyes, but right now, he felt anything _but_ strong.

His support had been torn away. He was weak, and his armor was crumbling even as he stood. He could not take the crushing weight of guilt and grief any longer. Mirkwood's king fell to his knees with an inarticulate cry. There were no discernable words, but none who heard could fail to hear the pain. He could not take it any more! Trembling with the strength of his emotion, Thranduil tilted his head back, blindly gazing into the pouring rain.

Everything was cold…so cold. Normally, the chilly downpour would not have affected the fair king as greatly as it did now. But his chill came from deep within, only to be heightened by the torrents.

He knew that he should leave, go back to the palace and join his wife's parents and his son. Somehow, he could not force himself to rise. It was not only that did he not want to be surrounded by sorrowful faces, reminding him of what was lost…

…part of him did not want to leave Elenlor alone.

He did not know how long he remained there. Time no longer had any meaning. Thus was he surprised to feel a hand grasp his shoulder firmly.

"_Tolo_, _mellon nin_." Halynder's voice was pained as he looked down at his king. Grief etched itself deeply into the elf's heart as he saw the empty expression in his friend's eyes.

Thranduil gazed at him blindly. "_Mas_?" he asked dully.

"_Bar lín._" The raven haired elf pulled the fair king to his feet, almost taking all the other's weight on himself. "_Saes_, _mellon nin_…" Halynder could tell he was fighting a losing battle even as the words left his mouth. Thranduil was not listening to him. "_Thranduil,_" He pulled one of the king's arms over his own shoulders.

"_Ion lín tira as le._"

At those words, the Elvenking looked up. "_Legolas_?"

"_Hîn lín aniriel adar._" Halynder's eyes were serious as he met his king's gaze. "He needs you, Thranduil."

To the councilor's surprise and horror, a look of pure torment twisted Thranduil's fair features. For a few seconds, Halynder could plainly read the bitter struggle that tore at his friend's soul. The Elvenking wished to return to his home, hold his son, comfort the child and receive comfort from the elfling's presence. But at the same time…

"Halynder," Thranduil's voice was pained, desperate. "I can not leave her alone!" His fair head dropped until his chin all but rested on his chest. A shiver shook his lithe body. Despair flowed from him with almost palpable force.

Halynder did not reply. He could not speak through the lump that settled in his throat. The arm around his friend tightened almost reflexively. "_Mellon nin_," he murmured brokenly. "If I could I would take this grief from you." Gently, he tipped Thranduil's face up until he looked into the fair king's eyes. "She is not there any longer," he said quietly. "Please, Thranduil, think of your son." He could see the indecision war in Thranduil's green eyes and pressed forward. "She would not wish this for you. _Either_ of you."

A deep sigh poured from the Elvenking, almost like the sound of one releasing his last breath. With slow movements, the fair elf straightened, taking his own weight. Halynder kept his arm around his friend, but it was more for mental support than physical. Together, the two slowly made their way back to the palace.

0-0-0-0

The rain had stopped at last, sometime during the previous night. Grey clouds still filled the sky, but for the moment, the downpour had ceased.

Thranduil stood at the edge of Mirkwood, barely underneath the shadows of his trees. His green eyes were fixed on the small party of elves before him.

Elalkar, Hirilor, and a good number of their household were leaving the shadows of Mirkwood for the shores of Valinor. Some were mounted, some were on foot; an expression of grief marred each fair face.

They had said their goodbyes. Already, they were disappearing into the distance. For a brief moment, Thranduil was seized with the wild desire to run after them. He wanted to leave! He wanted to flee the responsibility of his kingdom. Flee the grief that only increased year after year as he helplessly watched it slip farther and farther into the darkness. He wanted to receive healing for the wound that had been ripped through his heart when his wife had been torn away…

Looking after them, the Elvenking actually took a step, half deciding to follow…

A small hand tugged at his sleeve.

Thranduil looked down into the wide, hurting eyes of his son. "_Ada_," he whispered, "Where are they going?"

He could not leave. He could not abandon Legolas here. Perhaps, for the first time in his life, he sympathized fully with the Lady Anguirel. Only now did he understand how cruel her fate had been. To be trapped within your grief without hope of healing.

The fair king bent and lifted his small son. "They are going to Valinor, Legolas." He was different though.

Legolas chewed on his lip in agitation. "Will they come back to see me?"

Where Anguirel had given in to the despair, he would fight it. Where she had surrendered to her grief, he would find hope. After all, did he not hold in his arms what Elenlor had considered most precious? "No, _ion nin_. I am afraid they will not. But someday, we will go to see them, and then we will never leave them again."

He would stay. For Legolas, he would stay. Without another word, the Elvenking turned his back on the departing elves and entered his kingdom.

0-0-0-0

Weeks had passed and Thranduil felt every hour. He lay in bed, unable to sleep, his mind wandering. The ever present grief pushed at him, pulling at the corners of his consciousness. Threatening to drag him under the deep waters of despair. He could not let it!

The Elvenking sighed softly. Wearily. His people worried for him. They feared he would lose this battle; succumb to his grief.

Fade.

Another deep shuddering breath echoed through his chambers. He was _trying_ to live. But food and drink turned to ash in his mouth, so he did not eat. His dreams were haunted by a lovely elf woman with golden hair, so he could not force himself to sleep.

Pain was his constant companion, and he did not enjoy the relationship. On the contrary, he fought against it daily. Unfortunately, he knew that he was losing. How could one fight against an enemy when you were unarmed…and it had all the weapons it could ever desire?

Green eyes gazed up at the ceiling blankly. Counting the beams in the roof above his head distracted him somewhat, but it was never enough. With a grunt of disgust, he turned onto his side…

…only to be confronted with the empty expanse of bed where his wife had slept. He could almost see her now. She always slumbered curled into a ball, like a little cat, one slender hand tucked beneath her cheek. Her hair would spread across the pillows. If he touched her, she would turn towards him, cuddling against his frame…

His hand was actually reaching out, but it touched nothing but cold sheets.

With a cry, the king sat up, ripping the covers away. Swinging his legs over the side of the bed, he turned his back on the offending mattress. Thranduil raked shaking hands through his tangled hair.

It was hitting him strongly now. He wanted to leave…he wanted to fade…

A small sound, like the echo of his own voice reached his ears. The Elvenking listened intently…

Nothing.

Disturbed, he started to stand, but was brought short as his door swung slowly open. A small, tearstained face peered around the heavy wooden portal. Seeing his father awake, Legolas almost pulled back. Thranduil would have no such thing.

Quickly rising, the fair king crossed his room and pulled the door wide open. "_Man na den, ion nin_?" He bent down to the child's level, tenderly stroking blond strands behind the prince's pointed ears. "Were you having bad dreams?"

Legolas nodded silently. Thranduil gently pulled the elfling into his arms, embracing him. For several moments, neither one said anything. At last, the blond prince pulled back slightly and looked into his father's eyes. "Can I stay here tonight, _Ada_?"

"Of course!" The Elvenking stood, lifting his son with ease. Legolas sighed softly and rested his head against his father's shoulder, burying his face in Thranduil's neck. The king could feel how his son still trembled from the horrors of his nightime world. "No more bad dreams tonight, Legolas." One hand stroked the elfling's golden hair as he cradled the child. Moving to his bed, the fair elf tucked his son under the covers and climbed in himself.

Legolas was asleep within moments. Thranduil watched the prince slumber, and suddenly, he realized he was seeing things he had never seen before.

Legolas slept with one hand curled under his cheek…just like his mother. His small limbs curled themselves into a tight ball…just like his mother.

Blue eyes graced his fair face…

The Elvenking was so accustomed to everyone telling him his son was him all over again, he had almost forgotten that this was Elenlor's child too. Yes, if he looked closely, he could see her.

Tears filled Thranduil's eyes. He had almost despaired. He had almost given in to the overwhelming grief. One hand gently stroked blond hair away from Legolas' face. How could he have overlooked his son?

His soul found the anchor it needed. Someone who would not _fill_ Elenlor's place, but who would mend the gaping wound in the Elvenking's heart.

0-0-0-0

_Navaer, aran nin. Navaer…ion nin.- Farewell, my king. Farewell…my son._

_Elenlor, Bereth Lasgalen. Nae! Mor na i du ar le silme, Elenlor. Orë nin na blung si Im vanwen meleth nin. Avo raen palan, hiril nin! Nai hiluvalmet le i annứn-Elenlor, Queen of Lasgalen. Alas! Dark is the night without your starlight, Elenlor. My heart is heavy no that I have lost my love. Do not wander far, my lady! May it be that we will follow you into the West._

_Tolo, mellon nin.- Come, my friend._

_Mas?- Where?_

_Bar lin- your home_

_Saes, mellon nin…ion lin tira as le.- Please, my friend…your son looks for you._

_Hin lin aniriel adar- your child desires his father._

_Man na den, ion nin?- What is it, my son?_

_0-0-0-0 _


	12. Into the Woods

Present

Thranduil sighed softly, rubbing his tired eyes. Midnight had come and gone, and it was now nearing two in the morning.

Though Legolas had been told of his mother's death…Thranduil had never told him _exactly_ what had happened. First, because the prince had been too young. Then, as the years went by, the Elvenking did not know if he could stand to repeat the tale.

But the time had come. No, more than come. Legolas should have known long ago. The fair king chafed at the delay, but decided against going to the healing wing immediately. His son was most likely asleep, and he needed his rest.

Tomorrow, he would tell him everything.

0-0-0-0

"Legolas, what are you _doing_?"

The fair prince did not even look up at the sound of his friend's voice, but continued his desperate search through the packs they had taken on their recent adventure. "I…can not…find it!" In frustration, he upended the bag and watched its' contents spill over the floor. "Where is it!"

Halden sat up in his bed, brushing raven hair out of his eyes. "Perhaps if I knew what you were looking for…"

"One of my knives!" Legolas stood and started to run his hands through his hair, but remembered the bandage wound around his head just in time. "I can not find it!" His blue eyes darted over the jumble of equipment, but did not see the object he searched for. "I must have dropped it somewhere on our way in…"

Halden could almost see the gears spinning in Legolas' head. "No," he snapped, swinging his feet over the side of his bed. His injured leg protested sharply, but he ignored it. "Do not even think of such a thing, Legolas!"

"I did not even say anything!"

"You did not have to." Halden glared at the prince. "I know what you are planning, and I am telling you now, if you set one foot outside this room…"

"Halden," the fair prince's voice was strained. "I _need_ to find that knife!" His mother had given him those weapons…they had been her last gift… "_Ada_ will kill me if he finds out that I have lost it." He needed it back! They were precious to him because of the one who had given them.

"Your _ada_ will kill you if step out of the healing wing without his leave."

"If I am going to be dead either way I may as well have my knife." The young elf turned to leave.

Halden struggled to rise, biting his lip furiously to stop himself from crying out. "There are things in Mirkwood that will kill you much more permanently than the king!" Pain shot from his wound and he nearly fell. His hands clamped hard on his bed, keeping him upright.

Legolas turned and frowned at his friend. "Relax, Halden. I…that is…it is possible that I dropped it within the courtyard. I will not be in any danger within our own walls." The prince's blue eyes widened innocently, fixing a look of supreme sweetness on his fair face.

The raven haired youth scowled darkly. Many were the kitchen maids that were swayed by such a look when the prince swore he knew not where their tarts had gone to…but Halden knew better. "Do you _swear_ you will not go outside the walls?"

A hurt expression passed across Legolas' features. "Halden…do you not trust me?"

"No."

"Smart elf." Without another word, Legolas slipped through the door, out of the healing wing. He smiled to himself as he heard his friend curse viciously behind him. True, he was taking advantage of Halden's injury. The dark haired elf could not follow him, nor fetch anyone who was able to do so.

The smile quickly faded, pushed away by worry. What if he could not find his weapon? The prince bit his lip. He could not lose it! They were all he had of his mother. Detirmination flared in his blue eyes. No matter where it was, he would find it. Even if he had to search all Mirkwood.

0-0-0-0

Halden pulled himself to the window by his bed, thanking the Valar it looked out over the courtyard. There. He could see Legolas clearly, obviously searching the ground for his weapon.

Halynder's son groaned in frustration as he saw the prince (just as clearly) head for their secret exit. He was going into the woods! At night! By himself! Without additional weaponry! Was he _insane_!

Actually, he already knew the answer to that question.

The raven haired youth cursed his friend roundly for putting him in such a situation. What should he do? Keep his silence, or search out help? Not much of a choice. Halden bit his lip fiercely. He did not want to get Legolas in trouble…

…but he knew better than most the perils of Mirkwood.

Stifling a cry of pain, Halden limped slowly from the room and went in search of help. Somehow, the halls of the palace had never before seemed so empty. Where were all the healers that were normally hanging around, just waiting for the chance to pounce on him or Legolas? Moving at an excruciatingly sloth like pace, the young elf headed in the direction of the king's study, desperately hoping he would meet _someone_ before he reached his goal. He did not know if his leg would support him that long.

Halden leaned against the wall, breathing heavily. Tongues of fire licked up the length of his thigh, and he found he had to grind his teeth together to stop from moaning. Sweat stood out on his pale forehead.

There was a dark stain soaking through the white bandage. Halden grimaced. He had opened his wound again. With an effort, he pushed himself away from the wall. He could make it to the king…he could make it…

Footsteps sounded around the corner and Halden almost cheered. Someone was coming! At last!

His feeling of joy lasted until the moment he saw his father's face appear. An odd desire to flee seized the young elf, but he could not act on it. As it was, his leg was trembling violently. "_Ada_!"

Halynder leapt forward with a very undignified oath. Halden's eyebrows soared to his hairline. He could not every remember hearing his father swear before. The elder elf caught his son's arms tightly, taking his weight even as he looked as though he would very much like to shake his offspring. "What are you _doing_!"

"_Ada_, I had to! There are no healers about and I…"

The expression on Halynder's face changed dramatically. Now it was _his_ eyebrows that sailed upwards. "_You_ went in search of a healer?" Immediately, concern flooded his features. "Halden, what is it? Is it your leg? Did they not give you something for the pain?"

"_No_! I mean, yes, they did, but that's not why I am out here! Legolas…"

"Legolas!" Halynder's grip tightened. "Where is Legolas?"

This was the moment. Halden felt his tongue suddenly cleave to the roof of his mouth. If he told his father what was happening, Legolas would get into trouble "He is…um, that is to say…"

"Do not," the councilor said sternly, "tell me that he is in the healing wing. If you are out, so is he."

The young elf wilted. "No _Ada_. He is not. Nor is he within the palace grounds any longer." Halden hesitated for a moment, then blurted out… "Legolas went in search of one of his knives! He could not find it and thought that he must have dropped it somewhere. I watched him search the courtyard from my window, but he…" Halden gulped anxiously. His father's dark eyes were slowly widening, growing to almost the size of saucers. "_Ada_, he went back into the woods!"

"Alone?" Halynder's voice was barely more than a harsh whisper. "At this time of night! Did he take any weapon with him?"

"None that I saw." Halden winced as his father's fingers tightened almost painfully on his arms. The elder elf realized with a start what he was doing and released his hold…only to catch his son as the raven haired youth fell forward with a cry. His leg would hold him no longer.

"_Ion nin_," the councilor murmured as he hastily lifted his son and strode towards the healing wing. "You are brave to come so far, but incredibly foolish at the same time. Why did you not call for one of the healers to come fetch me or the king?" He gazed down at his son with a mixture of admiration and frustration. "Any of them would have reached us sooner, and been in better condition when they did so!"

Halden tried to smile, but it was a shaky affair. "_Ada_, can you see _me_ willingly calling for a healer?"

"Of course not. It would have been the logical thing to do," his father said dryly. The councilor grunted slightly as he adjusted his son's weight. "Not to mention easier for me. You are not as light as you were a hundred years ago."

The raven haired elf left his son in the capable, (though slightly annoyed) hands of the healer on duty and ran on swift feet to the king's study…

0-0-0-0

Thranduil's head jerked up at the sound of racing feet coming down the corridor. By the time someone was pounding on his door, he was already up out of his chair and halfway across the room.

The Elvenking swiftly twisted the knob and leapt backwards as Halynder all but charged into the room. Something in his councilor's eyes set off warning bells in the fair elf's mind. "_Man na den, mellon nin_?" His heart dropped suddenly, sickeningly, and without Halynder uttering a word, he knew that this had something to do with Legolas. "_Na den ion nin_?"

The raven haired elf nodded. "Thranduil…he has gone back into the woods."

With a cry, the fair king leapt for the door. He was gone before Halynder had time to draw breath.

"Thranduil!" the raven haired elf tried to pursue his friend, but it was no use. "Thranduil wait!" The Elvenking was running faster than he ever had before. Halynder could not keep up with him, no matter how hard he pushed himself.

0-0-0-0

Thranduil felt fear put wings on his feet. What if Legolas was attacked? What if he was too late to save his son…as he had been too late to save Elenlor? He winced at the memory of his harsh words, wondering in fear if indeed they might be the last he ever spoke to Legolas. The gates flew open before him. He could hear the guards cry out in surprise as they saw their king race into the night.

Right at the moment, he did not care. All that mattered was reaching his son in time. His right hand closed over the handle of one of his knives, drawing it forth even as he ran. He knew, of course, of his son and Halden's 'secret exit.' He had used it himself when he had been a young prince.

Racing along the wall, he came upon the small door, his green eyes desperately searching the ground for some clue to the direction his son had gone. There! Thanking the Valar that Legolas had not thought to hide his tracks, the Elvenking set off. His elven eyes pierced the darkness with ease. The light footprints leading into the depths of Mirkwood stood out like a signal flare to the blond king.

0-0-0-0

Legolas leaned against a tree, gasping for breath, his hand pressed to his wounded side. Pain was starting to lick outwards from the gash, like tongues of fire. His head ached as well, but he paid his hurts no mind. In truth, if one was not hampering his breathing, he would not have stopped at all. Where was his knife? The prince pushed himself up and staggered on, blue eyes darting left and right. It had to be here somewhere…it had to be! He could not have lost it for good! Chewing his lip in agitation, Legolas glanced over his shoulder nervously. He had not thought he would have to go this far into the woods before he found his weapon.

The fair elf halted, wavering between pushing on and turning back. He was alone, unarmed, and wounded. Mirkwood could be harsh to the weak. Halden had tried to warn him, and in truth, he knew very well that what he was doing was folly. What if he had lost his blade all the way back in the spider's colony? Would he fight the entire nest of arachnids with his bare hands?

The prince looked over his shoulder once more. He had half convinced himself to return.

"_Legolas, do you like my knives?"_

The image of his mother bending toward him, a smile on her lovely face burned across the young elf's memory. She had given him the weapons. They were precious to him…so precious. The last gift she had ever given him. He could not go back without his mother's gift.

Turning his back to the direction in which his home lay, Legolas pressed on into the night, hoping desperately that he came upon his blade soon.

0-0-0-0

A glint of gold hair.

The spider stretched luxuriously on its' branch, a satisfied sigh hissing through its' fangs. He had known that the elves would return. He knew their ways. They would not leave the nest undisturbed. That was why he had slipped away from the colony. He would not be there when the elves attacked, slaying all his kin.

But what was this? The elf was alone. There were no others with him. The spider tapped his legs in curiousity, wondering at this new development. Suddenly, his eyes narrowed. He _recognized_ this elf! This was the one who had attacked the spiders but yesterday! He had come with only one other then. A dark haired youth. Now, he appeared to be by himself. And he was unarmed.

The spider almost chuckled to himself. As always, his plans worked to his advantage. He would shortly have a meal that none would share…

0-0-0-0

Sweat dripped down Legolas' forehead, and his breath came in short gasps. An uneasiness was steadily growing in the back of his mind, strengthened by the whispered warnings of the trees. He could hear them strongly now. They sighed and moaned, and some had gone so far as to drop a branch in his way, trying to turn him back. Unfortunately, the more his pain grew, the less attention he could spare to listen to them. So focused was he on his goal, he eventually failed to hear them altogether.

A gleam caught the prince's eye. With a glad cry, he lunged forwards, his gaze fixed on the hilt of his weapon.

He did not hear the trees' scream…

0-0-0-0

The spider saw his soon to be meal rush forwards. With the experience of long years practice, he coldly timed the elf's speed, calculating when he should drop.

The fair head came to a halt directly beneath the spider's branch. He was stooping, bending for something… The spider did not know what the prince bent for, nor did he care. With a quiet hiss of triumph, he flung himself from his perch, baring his fangs for a bite…

0-0-0-0

He could see his son! Unable to spare breath for speaking, Thranduil charged forward. Legolas was moving slowly, allowing the king time to catch up.

The prince gave a cry and leapt forward.

The Elvenking saw his son stoop. He caught a gleam of white before Legolas' hand closed around the handle of his weapon.

He saw the spider drop from above.

"LEGOLAS!"

0-0-0-0

Legolas cried out as he felt something crash into him from behind. Pain flared from his head and side in agonizing waves. The force of the impact sent the young elf hurtling into a nearby tree. Blackness clawed at his vision for a few brief seconds, but he pushed it away. The prince dizzily pulled himself into a sitting position; clutching at the tree he had hit. He turned to look back at his assailant…

A scream from somewhere deep inside clawed its' way up and out of his throat.

Thranduil lay on the ground, an enormous, hideous spider crouched on his back. The creature was in the process of pulling its' fangs free of the king's neck. Already, Legolas could see the red, inflamed mark marring the Elvenking's fair skin.

"_Ada_!"

The spider turned its' disgusting head toward the young prince and hissed, baring teeth wet with the fair king's blood.

Rage seized the fair elf. He pulled himself to his feet, his knife held forward in an attack position. Blue eyes blazed in his pale face. "Get away from him!" Legolas stepped forward, ignoring the pain in his side.

The spider complied immediately, leaping from the prone form of the Elvenking and hurling his black, bristly body towards the prince.

Legolas let his knees go completely limp, falling to the ground with a thud. As the spider sailed over him with a raspy cry of surprise, he stabbed upwards, driving the elven blade deep into his foe's belly.

The spider fell to the forest floor, it's legs twitching horribly.

Legolas ignored it. He tried to rise, but could not. The pain shooting across his side prevented all but the smallest of moves. Slowly, the fair prince forced himself to crawl to his father's motionless form.

A sick feeling rose in his throat as he gently turned his father over and pulled the Elvenking's shoulders into his lap. He was frightened. There were different kinds of spiders and they had different kinds of poisons. Some were meant to quiet…and some were meant to kill. Legolas knew he had only the most rudimentary of healing skills. He could patch a knife wound, stop heavy bleeding, even stitch close deep cuts. Poisons were beyond him.

He could not help his father.

The prince slowly circled Thranduil's shoulders with his right arm, holding the Elvenking tightly against his own chest. If only he could stand…lift his injured parent…

He tried. Several times.

Tears burned in Legolas' blue eyes. He felt so helpless! What was more, he could feel his father's life flicker. Thranduil needed help! This was all his fault. His father had taken his place; pushed him to safety.

"Someone," the prince whispered. "Someone help me…"

Then louder.

"Help."

And louder still.

"Help!"

The trees' wailed in sympathy as a grief stricken cry rang through Mirkwood's shadows.

"SOMEBODY HELP ME!"

0-0-0-0

The heartbroken sound drifted through the dark tree trunks, catching the attention of more than one elven ear.

Halynder raced through the woods, on the trail of his monarch. Members of the royal guard ran alongside the dark haired councilor, their fair faces grim. All had heard the prince's desperate call, and they were flying to answer it.

There! Halynder could see a flash of golden hair through the tree trunks. As he sped forwards, he felt his heart fall to the bottom of his boots. A new sound had reached his pointed ears, one that he knew, yet named with dread.

He could hear Legolas weeping.

Halynder could not remember seeing the young elf cry since the day his grandparents left for Valinor.

Now he could see him…

Steel bands contracted tightly around the raven haired elf's chest. He could not breathe. Legolas was kneeling on the ground, his father held tightly against him. The young prince wept as though his heart would break.

Thranduil's eyes were closed.

0-0-0-0

_Man na den mellon nin? Na den ion nin?- What is it, my friend? Is it my son?_


	13. A Prince's Price

One slow breath, and then another. The sound pounded against Legolas' delicately pointed ears; deafening in the room's silence.

It was not _his_ labored breathing that echoed so horribly in the stillness.

Thranduil lay on the bed before his son, his form completely motionless except for the rise and fall of his chest.

The fair prince's blue eyes were fixed on the small chamber's only other occupant with unwavering intensity.

It was hardly more than a small alcove off the main healing ward really. There were only three pieces of furniture pushed into its' cramped confines. The bed on which the king lay, and two chairs. Legolas occupied one of those chairs. Until the prince requested that he be left alone, Halynder had taken the other.

But it was private, and that was all Legolas cared about at the moment. He wanted to be alone with his father. The very thought of facing condemning, or worse yet, pitying glances made him cringe.

So quiet. Everything was _so_ quiet.

The healers had tried to keep Legolas from his father's room, protesting that he was wounded himself, and needed to remain in his own bed.

The fair prince had very firmly reminded them that until his father regained consciousness, _he_ was the acting monarch, and as such would decide for himself where he should be.

After that little confrontation, a heavy blanket of silence seemed to have dropped over the entire palace. The healers made no further complaints and did not try to move their prince. Legolas knew the reason why.

Deep down, they were admitting to themselves that there was a very good possibility the King would _not_ awake. He had been so close to death when Halynder had carried him home. The poison had worked quickly, stealing his life away. Long, and many were the hours they had fought against the spider's venom. Finally, just before daybreak, the healers had ceased their frenzied activity. They had done everything they could. The posion had been purged from Thranduil's body, but whether or not he would live was yet to be seen.

Only then did one healer discover the prince. Though he had been told to return to his bed, he had remained with his father all through the night.

"Legolas?"

The fair prince did not even rasie his head. "Go back to your bed, Halden. You should not be up on that leg."

The raven haired elf winced at his friend's flat, emotionless tone. Never before had he heard Legolas sound like that. Gritting his teeth together, Halden slowly limped into the small room and seated himself in the empty chair. "That never stopped either of us before."

The blonde elf's eyes did not move from the king's bed. "If your father finds out, you will get in trouble."

Halden was swift to notice the slight waver in Legolas' voice as he said the word 'father'. The young elf shook his head gently. "I do not believe he will mind this once, _mellon nin._"

Legolas' lips pressed into a thin line, but he did not respond.

Minutes of silence slowly ticked by, broken only by the sound of the king's breathing. Finally, the prince sighed softly. "I am sorry."

"For what?" Halden cocked his head to the side curiously.

"I should have listened to you." One slender hand slowly reached out and clutched Thranduil's fingers tightly. It trembled ever so slightly.

"So what else is new?" Halden asked dryly, trying to keep his voice light. It pained him to see his friend suffer so. He wanted to comfort the fair elf, but suspected that Legolas was not ready to receive it just yet.

The prince did not even seem to hear his companion. "If I had listened, this would not have happened. He would not have followed me through the woods and been hurt! He saved me by sacrificing _himself_! _Ada!_" Legolas' voice had slowly risen in volume until it came to almost a shriek. As the last word fell from his lips, the elf bent his head until his forehead rested on the king's bed. The dam he had so carefully constructed fell to pieces under the onslaught of emotion and his body shook with the sobs that seemed to tear him apart.

Halden had to swallow hard past the lump in his own throat as he gently placed his hand on his friend's back, comforting as best as he could.

"_Ada,_" Legolas whispered into the sheets. "_Ada, _I am sorry! I did not mean to disappoint you. I am sorry I went after the spiders! _Ada_…" the young elf's grip tightened convulsively over his father's hand. "_Ada_, come back…please…" The words wrenched themselves from his throat and fell into the silence of the room, only to be swallowed. The stillness pushed at his ears with an almost tangible force, as if it stifle whatever pleas he made before they could reach his father's hearing. Legolas cried out against it, forcing his voice to fight the overwhelming quiet.

"_Come back!_"

0-0-0-0

…_Come back…_

_Those words had meaning for him. He had said them himself, very long ago. Kneeling on the ground, he had tried to call back one who was very dear to him. But he had not succeded._

_She had given everything for their child, and if she could have, he knew that she would have stayed._

_Just as he had given everything. And now here he was, listening with one ear to the cries of the living, and with the other, embracing the waiting silence._

_Had she felt this heartbreak, he wondered. Had she experienced the pain of listening to a call she could not respond to? He had called her back, but she could not come. Now he was being called…_

_And he found that he had a choice that she had not._

_He could fight. He could push back the stillness that tried to claim him and return to sound and light. He was caught between two worlds, and could go either way. Part of him longed to see sunlight and the twinkle of stars. The other part only wished to be reunited with the one he had called to so long ago._

'Ada, come back…please…'

_Legolas._

'_Istalye,…_why I did this.'

_Elenlor._

_Grief threatened to break him into small pieces. Could not even his death be easy? Why must he always be torn in two?_

_A hand clutched at him, as though desperate to hold him in the world of life. He could barely feel it. He knew that it must be his son, but his attachment to the light was growing weaker even as he wavered in his descision._

_Another hand closed over the first._

_It was an odd sensation, feeling as if two hands were clasping him at once, and yet only one held him at a time. One hand was young, smaller than his own, but it held the promise of great strength, and it would grow. The other was also smaller…but it was slender. Delicate. Long fingers curled around his in a way he was very familiar with indeed._

_This was the hold he felt more clearly._

"_I have missed you."_

"_Iston." _

_He could hear her voice as if she spoke into his ear. More than that, he could feel her presence. He could almost touch the warm glow of her spirit. His heart ached with longing and tears sprang to his eyes as he realised just how much he had missed her. A gentle hand stroked his cheek lovingly…_

_Automatically, he reached up, trapping her fingers in place. He held onto her almost desperately because he knew…he knew beyond a shadow of a doubt that this was not to be. _

_He had a son. And his child was calling for him. Elenlor would understand. _

_Elenlor did understand. The moment he made his choice, he felt her breath a sigh of relief. She was happy with his decision. Yet mixed within her joy was a deep ache, almost equal to his own._

_She missed him too._

"_It will not be forever," he whispered softly._

"_No. I will see you again, meleth nin, but the time will go slowly." He could feel her draw back from him slightly, even as she offered her strength to help him fight the stillness._

"_Not forever," he asserted once more. He could feel her hand in his own, but another's grip grew stronger on him. She was slipping away as he moved towards their son. _

_Light filtered through the darkness, and the silence was broken by a young elf's tears. For one instant, he could see her clearly._

_Golden hair fell around her lovely face, framing her blue eyes._

_Legolas' eyes._

_Her mouth curled into a smile even as tears gleamed on her cheeks. Her hand slowly started to slide from his own._

_Unable to release her so soon, he tightened his grip, even as he burst from a world of darkness into life… _

_0-0-0-0_

Legolas gasped.

Sitting up so quickly he startled Halden, the fair elf stared at his father with wide eyes. Unable to see what had alarmed his friend, Halden glanced from the prince to the king, and back again in confusion.

Legolas did not notice his companion's look. His attention was riveted to the King's hand…where the fingers were now clenched tightly around his own. As exciting as that was, it was not what had surprised the young prince.

For just an instant, he could have sworn there was a third hand holding both his and his father's.

"Legolas…"

The deep, raspy voice broke the silence of the room as his own cries never could have. Legolas' gaze flew to his father's face, and his heart leapt as he saw the green eyes open, and fix on him. "_Ada_!" Instantly, he shot to his feet, mumbling incoherently about fetching the healers.

Halden seized his friend's arm and pulled him back into his seat. "Stay, _mellon nin_. I will get the healers for you." Rising, the raven haired elf limped slowly from the room. As he reached the door, a small smile pulled at the corners of his mouth. His father would kill him for putting such strain on his leg…

There was a soft click as the door closed behind Halden.

"_Ada_," Legolas said softly. "I am sorry. I…I know you must be very angry with me…"

"No," Thranduil shook his head slowly. "No, Legolas, I am not angry. But I was very frightened." He sighed softly. "Why did you go into the woods? Alone? In the middle of the night?" the king's eyed his son and his mouth twisted into a dry smile. "If your intent was to stop my heart, I assure you, you have found a method of unfailing certainty."

The young elf winced, and became extraordinarily interested with the toes of his boots.

"Legolas," Thranduil pushed himself into a semi seated position and stretched out a hand towards his son, gently placing his fingers beneath the prince's chin and lifting his face until the blue eyes met green. "Why?"

"I…" Legolas tried to tear his gaze away, but could not. His shoulders slumped slightly. "I lost one of my knives." The words were so soft they hardly reached Thranduil's sharp ears. "I noticed one was not with my pack…and I could not find it. Halden tried to stop me, but I would not listen to him. I am sorry, _Ada_. I…I rushed out to find it without thinking."

Thranduil stared at his son, nonplussed. Of all the things… "Legolas, we could have _made_ you another knife." He felt a little of his old irritation rising within him. To risk his life for something so…insignificant! Reckless, foolish, young elf! The king drew in a deep breath, trying to stem the anger that started to build up within him. Again. The boy had nearly thrown his life away _again_ for something totally meaningless.

"You _are _angry with me." Legolas eyed his father uneasily.

Let it never be said that the prince of Mirkwood was unobservant. "_Now_ I am." The fair king drew in another deep breath. "Legolas, this was foolish."

"I know." The prince bit his lip hard, and turned his face away. "But I had to find my knife."

"Why?" The word was almost growled.

For several moments, the young elf did not answer. When at last he spoke, the words were barely more than a whisper.

"_Nana_ gave me those knives."

Thranduil felt as if all the air had suddenly been squeezed from his lungs. His anger left him in a rush. Gently, he reached out and touched his son's face, pushing golden hair behind pointed ears. His fingers brushed the bandage wound around the prince's forehead, and he shuddered. He had come so close to losing his child…and his words still hung between them.

Legolas flinched slightly at his father's touch. His blue eyes watched the fair king almost warily, as if expecting harsh condemnation. "_Ada_, I am sorry…"

Thranduil could have wept at the look on his son's face. "No, Legolas. No. I am sorry." The Elvenking let his hand fall. "I am sorry I hurt you with my words."

Legolas' eyes widened. It was not often his father apologized, and he knew that he _had_ deserved to be chastened for his rash act. However, the words had wounded him. "I am not a burden to you, _Ada_?" The sentence was asked anxiously. He was truly worried that his father did not look on him with love…but as a load to be carried on his already heavily weighted back.

Now it was Thranduil's turn to be surprised. "A burden?" The fair king was so taken aback he could not speak for nearly a full minute. "A _burden_! Legolas!" Ignoring the fatigue in his abused body, the Elvenking slowly sat up and swung his legs over the side of the bed. Reaching both arms out, he took his son by the shoulders and looked deep into his eyes. "_Ion nin_, you have never been a _burden_ to me. Rather, you were the refuge I fled to when my spirit seemed close to collapse."

Tears slowly formed in Legolas' eyes as he stared at his father.

Thranduil smiled, and pulled the young elf into a strong embrace. "I was frightened, Legolas, when you came back wounded with Halden leaning against your shoulder. And it made me angry to know that you had risked your life for something ridiculous. Not only because you are so precious to me…but because…" The words caught in his throat and choked him. Could he tell his son? Could he tell him what had happened so long ago? Tears blurred his own vision and slowly slid down fair cheeks. "Legolas, your life was bought at a high price."

Legolas pulled back, looking at his father in astonishment. The king met his son's gaze steadily, and forced himself to continue. "I have not regretted paying it," he said softly, "and neither did your mother."

If the fair prince had been surprised before, it was nothing to what he was now. Though he knew of his father's love for his mother, the king very rarely spoke of his wife. It caused him great pain to remember her absence.

"I have something to tell you that I should have told you long before," Thranduil said clearly. "About the day your mother gave you her knives."

0-0-0-0

_Years later_

_0-0-0-0_

"Legolas, I bet you I can kill more deer than you!" The young elf to the prince's right threw out the challenge, his dark eyes gleaming with the promise of a contest. "Come on, it's been ages since we have had a wager." He flipped his long dark braid over his shoulder, awaiting the fair elf's answer eagerly.

"What is the matter?" Legolas responded with a friendly taunt. "You can not stand to let a century pass without being soundly beaten?"

A derisive snort answered him. "I did not expect you to actually go in search of a spiders' colony."

"But we did," the prince's voice flattened at the memory of the dark day. He shook of his momentary gloom impatiently. He was on a patrol through the paths of his home and did not wish evil recollections to cloud his good time. Shooting a sideways glance at Halden, Legolas saw his friend's mouth tighten into a grim line. Obviously the dark haired elf remembered that bet as well.

"Well?" His challenger dug a sharp elbow into the fair elf's ribs. "Do you accept?"

"What boundaries?"

"Anything caught off the path and beyond the enchanted river."

Immediately, alarm bells sounded in Legolas' head. "We are not supposed to cross the river today, Tinev." The elven prince stepped up his pace, hoping his friend would drop the matter, or rearrange the boundaries.

"Afraid, are you?" Tinev smirked as he lengthened his stride to match the prince.

"There is nothing to prove by disobeying orders," Halden said gravely from Legolas' right side.

Ignoring Halden, Tinev quickly stepped in front of Legolas, halting the prince. "Come on, Legolas. It will be fun." He grinned mockingly. "Unless you want everyone in the warriors' hall to think that the Prince of Mirkwood is a coward…"

Legolas temper flared up quickly. He opened his mouth to accept the challenge…and choked off his reply before it reached is lips. Out of the corner of his eye, he could just see the hilt of one of his knives. His mother's knives. He was reminded of what had been sacrificed for his life.

It was too high a price to gamble.

With cool dignity, the fair prince stepped around Tinev and continued on. His head was held high, even as he heard the other elf's laughter. Though the mocking sound pricked his pride, he kept up his pace. He had duties at home, and his father was waiting for him. A small smile tugged at the corner's of his mouth. He glanced to his right to see a matching grin playing across Halden's features. The dark haired elf noticed Legolas was looking at him and allowed his face to break into a wide smile. The fair prince could not help but respond in kind.

Let the fool think what he wanted. Legolas knew his worth.

He had been bought with a star of gold.

**THE END**


End file.
